When I was a child, my dad owned a bullet. . . . . He used to sometimes come home in the Midnight, travelling in a lonely way where no vehicle can be found. . . . Always I used to wait till he comes. ...
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When I was a child, my dad owned a bullet. . . . . He used to sometimes come home in the Midnight, travelling in a lonely way where no vehicle can be found. . . . Always I used to wait till he comes. ...