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There isn’t a husband breathing, Annabel, who wouldn’t have blessed that pistol in your hands, and prayed God that the bullet might go straight. “It’s odd,” said Ann Veronica, re-entering the flat. Lucy cringed, her eyes widening. I miss them so. “It was a phase,” she said. My foster mom works there as a second job.
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This video was uploaded to thenextfuture.net on 23-09-2024 01:50:57
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