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Pampers: A Short Story

Daim sat on the brown couch, his hands freed, legs crossed and eyes still. A half-burnt cigarette squatted in a bowl beside him, the rest of it already amidst the evening breeze. In front, Daim’s father fidgeted incessantly. He shifted to his right, then left, then right again, as if undecided of his final sleeping ...

 

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