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... ening, the remnants of the setting sun streaming through the balcony glass and falling on the little boy nestled in the rocking chair.
The old-fashioned fan struggled to rotate, but the wind it whipped up was still warm.
Grandma held a palm fan in her hand, gently wafting cool air onto his face—the only trace of relief in the stifling summer night.
"Aning, just wait a little longer, they’ll be here soon."
"Grandma, when they come, will you go with us? I miss Dad a ...
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