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Chapter 857 Warm*
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... d on a pure white ceiling. It was unfamiliar.
'Shit…'
His vision was blurry, and although he could tell the ceiling was white and unfamiliar, he couldn't make out much else around him.
'I'm on a bed?… And there's someone here.' Atticus thought.
He felt the soft touch of the bed beneath him and the warmth of a hand holding his arm.
The warmth was familiar, so familiar that Atticus could never forget it, not even if the world were ending.
He instantl ...
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