Mago is within the room. You’ll get in.
The man that is big on a medical center sleep along with his bare legs scraping its bottom train. Their mind is propped on a pillow that is scarlet the left temple dented, the right side paralysed. Their dark locks is held just for enough time to conceal the scars.
The periodic noises he makes are understood only by their spouse, but he continues to have that punctuating left hand. In sluggish movement, the fingers curl and near.
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