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Kraft was a skinny, harmless kid from Pennsylvania who wanted only to be liked, and was destined to be disappointed in even so humble and degrading an ambition. Instead of being liked, he was dead, a bleeding cinder on the barbarous pile whom nobody had heard in those last precious moments while the plane with one wing plummeted. He had lived innocuously for a little...
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At least reading doesn't require you to lift your arms. (My arms are so sore from the gym I can't lift them!)
Have a wonderful day today, sweetie!