His face was that of a quick, intelligent-looking boy, with fine hazel eyes, and a clear olive complexion. There are way-stations—even terminals. \"Shouldn't you be in bed? You go into work at 5:30, I thought. \"Sure, but you'll have to call from my Mom and Dad's room. He met her eyes with his fiery black gaze. Such was the simple code that displayed itself in all his thoughts.
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