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“𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒏’𝒕 𝒂 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒆𝒓?” 𝑰 𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒅.
𝑱𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒆 𝒕𝒖𝒈𝒈𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒙𝒕𝒓𝒂 𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒓𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒔𝒍𝒖𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅𝒆𝒓, 𝒊𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝑬𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒛𝒊𝒑-𝒖𝒑. 𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒏𝒐 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒉𝒊𝒎 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒊𝒕, 𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒘𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂 𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒅𝒊𝒆 𝒂𝒍𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒚. 𝑮𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒂𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒄 𝒂 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒌𝒆, 𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒊𝒕 𝒂𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒆𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒆, 𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒕 𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒎𝒚 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒖𝒈𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒕 𝒄𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉 𝒎𝒚 𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒏.
𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒇𝒍𝒖𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒄𝒉 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒂𝒖𝒍𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒙𝒊𝒆𝒕𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒃𝒆𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒍𝒌𝒆𝒅 𝒊𝒏 𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒊𝒏 𝒅𝒆𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒕. 𝑬𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝒆𝒚𝒆𝒔 𝒊𝒎𝒑𝒍𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒂 𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒚 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒐𝒍𝒆𝒎𝒏 𝒆𝒙𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏. 𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒎𝒐𝒖𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒂𝒌, 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒕𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒍𝒐𝒘 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒖𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒚 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒂𝒓𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒈.
“𝑷𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒚 𝒈𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑰 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖,” 𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒄𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒆𝒓. “𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒂 𝒈𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒆.”

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