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... tly, warm as spring sunlight.

Kent froze. His surroundings had shifted. He was inside the Clark family home—an illusion, but no less real in emotion.

There was the smell of steamed rice. The wooden table. The delicate plates arranged with care. His mother stood there, with an apron around her waist, smiling gently as she placed food in front of him.

Kent’s eyes trembled.

His hands moved mechanically, picking up the chopsticks, but each grain of rice felt like a ro ...

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