Her foster father, Larry, was the hard working son-of-a-bitch type with a disdain for suits. Her father became much less distant towards his only daughter in the days that followed. Was he your natural father? Did you know him?” “No, I didn’t. There was a tearing sound and the cloth of her habit ripped apart as the smothered point drove through it, missing its intended target. “Are you sorry you waited, aunt?” she said.
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