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... icah had turned his back and curled up on the bed, like a child sulking after being told off. His messy silver hair spilled across the pillow. From behind, he looked small.
Clyde’s eyes softened just a little.
"Won’t you call your family?" he asked, voice low.
"Nah, they are busy," Micah mumbled. "And I’ll be discharged soon."
Clyde frowned. He misunderstood the meaning behind Micah’s answer. It sounded cold, detached, dismissive. As if he expected no one to care. ...
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