Where did they go? When will they come back? Will they feed me or will Cindy? Someone will. There is always someone. She fed me early and left. Lots of people were in the house, but not
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She looks up at me with sorrowful shame-filled eyes. I’m sorry, her eyes say. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. “Oh Daisy-Girl, it’s OK,” I croon. Her eyes squint with worry. She has squirmed herself off her towel-covered
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