"An American. My foster mother, Janine, wasn’t much fatter. To his relief, she nodded. Still, they bob up occasionally. “Lucy!” He whispered into her ear beneath a dusty curtain cloud. After class his routine was unchanged. " Many wrinkles appeared at the corners of Ah Cum's slant eyes—as if the sun hurt—but the rest of his face remained as passive as a graven Buddha's.
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