And, mind! no prevaricating—nothing but the truth will satisfy me. Joe, my foster dad, was a heroin and booze addict. She heard his voice screaming her name into the twilight as she fled, his cries trailing like banners, weaving through the breeze that had begun to gently stir the dew on the ground. Ennison reeled, and almost fell. It gave her joy to see them laughing, even though she was unsure of what she had done wrong.
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