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... g his face was a miniature explosion, yanking Amani abruptly from the murky, suffocating depths of a sleep that felt more like a shallow grave. A low, guttural groan escaped his lips as he instinctively recoiled, his body protesting the unwelcome assault.
He lay in a damp, chill room, the persistent drip a daily, infuriating reminder that the fundi’s solemn promise to fix the perpetually leaking roof had once again dissolved into the ether of shoddy workmanship and broken vows.
W ...
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