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... at night, young man?"
A voice suddenly echoed from above the tall metal fence.
It was Uncle Acok — a middle-aged man with a mischievous face, the type who always appeared when he wasn’t supposed to.
He stood on the top rail with one hand resting on his hip, the other casually tucked into his pocket. Dressed in a neatly pressed white batik shirt and dark slacks.
He looked more like someone on his way to a family gathering than a man trespassing in the middle of th ...
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