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7 марта 2017 г., 01:00
Mo anxiously glanced at her gray cat, Peachfuzzle “Peaches” Carter, who was lying on a pile of stuffed animals in the opposite corner of the room. The cat was twenty-one pounds of pure judgment and wore a jeweled collar that perfectly matched his demeanor. He looked at Mo the way he always looked at people—as if the voice inside his head was saying, Go fuck yourself.
