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I always fall on my feet, you know. “Shit!” John quickly countered, “What are you going to do? She’s a motor-mouth, Lucy, of the worst kind. At any rate, he began to deliberately personate him. She found her foster father and Mike still awake, playing high stakes UNO at the dimly lit kitchen table. The stretch of red dirt disappeared into a stretch of trees like Van Gogh’s painting. ‘He don’t mean you no harm.
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