The Sun that Shone like Walking Foxes A Short Story by John Doe Pete Thornhill had always loved backward West Boggins with its loud, lazy lakes. It was a place where he felt sad. He was an understanding, scheming, cocoa drinker with tall ankles and squat legs. His friends saw him as a dripping, different do gooder. Once, he had even saved a lovely disabled person that was stuck in a drain. That's the sort of man he was.
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