Kiwi ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

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“Listen!” I said, and shook his arm, hard. “You think you’re going to die by inches, but you’re not. You’re going to live by inches. With me.” “Auntie, he’s dead.” Ian’s voice was low, rough with tears, and his big hand warm on my shoulder. “Come. Stand up now. Let me take him. We’ll bring him home.”
Kiwi ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა
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Go Tell the Bees that I Am Gone (Outlander, #9)
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