As I entered our
house, a scent shot right into my throat. I racked my brain to find for a
memory, but found nothing. I was very sure that the scent was from that one
thing only. Time had passed, and it was still in the air. Then my brother
showed me something. It was a book, my book.
I knew it. I just
can’t blame or ask my brother about it, because I didn’t expect him reading one
of my books. The only weird thing was, how did I know that my book was taken
out from my box?
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