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... oe and Doris’s biological father, could only clutch the cold baked sweet potato, standing in a corner where no one could see him.
Rationality screamed, saying Doris was still waiting for him at the hospital, telling him he should leave.
But his feet felt nailed to the snowy ground, and Timothy stood there stubbornly, allowing the snowflakes to cover his shoulders, turning his black coat grayish-white, self-destructively letting the cold wind seep into his collar.
He didn’ ...
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