Joe, my foster dad, was a heroin and booze addict. Why shouldn’t we be martyrs? There’s nothing else for most of us, anyhow. He continued thoughtfully. “Been sitting on the doorstep almost for two hours. "Hush!—come hither, and I'll tell you. Her eyes flashed and she withdrew the dagger, pulling away from him. I was mean to him. “I wrote it for you.
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