Avery woke up from the nightmare, sweaty behind her back. She fumbled and turned on the bedside lamp, her heart full of dumbfounding.
After so many years, it was the first time that she dreamed of that not-so-good teenage period. To her now, the ordeal at that time was nothing at all. She got out of bed, poured a glass of red wine on the bar in the bedroom, and toasted herself a glass with the moonlight, and then drank it all in one go.
Why did you dream about it? It’s probably because of the case that I just received today.
She runs a bar, but most of the time she doesn’t stay in it, but walks around the world. I happened to be back a few days ago, and when I passed a garden, I heard the cry of forbearance.
She was a fourteen-year-old girl, she was very cute, and she was neatly dressed, but she didn’t know why she was crying.
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