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... he wheelchair, and took the elevator down!
He can't wait for a minute!
Don't want to stay in that room!
The air is full of other women's, fat powder!
Not the taste of little things!
He shook his wheelchair and didn't even drive the car. He rushed straight to the street.
No purpose, always moving forward...
However, in the midst of it, the route he took seemed to be somewhat familiar.
It seems to be... the direction of a little thing.
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