"I love you like a son, and will follow you like a dog. “I’m six hundred and forty-eight, John, but guess how old I look? Fifteen. " "Are you sure of that," inquired Jackson. "Mother, I come to you. Diane spoke first. These were less like streets than labyrinths, hewn through an eternal twilight. With the extra seventy-five pounds she had put after birthing her final son, Steven, her knees weren’t in good shape to be running up and down stairs all day.
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