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... asses, walking into the room at a leisurely pace, adjusting his collar as he did. The moment Father laid eyes on him, he practically leapt from the sofa.

So, this is Uncle Tenard.

He looked exactly as I remembered him from my memories: tall, gentle, and profoundly tired. Those bags under his eyes could probably rival that of a kangaroo’s pouch.

“Ah, Tenard!” Father boomed, going in for one of his signature bear hugs. Uncle Tenard barely managed to brace himself, awkwardly ...

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