The house will be well rid of him, for a more idle, good-for-nothing reprobate never crossed its threshold. She found her foster father and Mike still awake, playing high stakes UNO at the dimly lit kitchen table. Though encumbered by his irons, his step was firm, and his demeanour dignified. She did not open the Bible but laid it on the edge of the bed, knelt and rested her forehead upon the worn leather cover. She loved him.
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