He caught the smirk. A spacious suite of rooms down the hall John described as “my parents love den” with a grimace as Lucy smiled. It was not a long prayer. Since the discovery of them, she had been madly eager to read these typewritten tales. There was one verse that haunted and mocked her. "It's an ill wind that blows nobody good," thought the carpenter, turning his attention to the child, whose feeble struggles and cries proclaimed that, as yet, life had not been extinguished by the hardships it had undergone.
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