When Sheila was in a bad mood, she berated her new foster daughter for streaks on the windows, dust on the figurines, for crooked bed sheet corners, and floors that had not been waxed properly. “Hey sis!” He cried drunkenly. She rested her head upon his shoulder. ’ Gerald eyed her with interest. She liked to cook even though normal food was not nourishing to her. I want to do something. So many things she saw that her interest stumbled rather than leaped from object to object. Wood. Wiped out, but for these.
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