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Chapter 64: The Grim Reaper and the Apple Pie
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Chapter 66: Masterpieces and Taxed to Death Nobles
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... eror’s memory:
"Papa... I drew our family picture," she said, her voice full of pride, her little feet dashing toward me with that infectious energy only she could carry.
I turned just in time to catch her before she stumbled. A paper flapped in her tiny hand like a bird in flight.
I smiled—without realizing it—and picked her up, settling her on my lap. Her hair smelled faintly of wildflowers and ink, and her cheeks were smeared with streaks of paint. I took the ...
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