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Murder
Murder
Maria’s eyes shrunk. Forced to live in his father’s office after the demise of her brother, she began to look like a small boy. You’ll be able to do whatever you want, they say, money gives you power and money is here. 23 years, sulky and with furrows on just one side of her face, Maria was tired of instructing the probationers and started to play with the Photoshop during the working hours. The mother, Irene, caught her sinning and gave her a good scolding. I can’t dream in America, the arts don’t make a living; listen, I once dreamed about it too, but it’s just a teen fantasy. Within two months, Maria’s pupils disappeared.
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