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... sat on the balcony chair, puffing on a cigarette while observing the kid from the corner of my eye, scrutinizing every detail. Aside from his slightly darker skin, he looked no different from any American kid. His hair was naturally curly, just like mine, a trait that ran in my family—my father, uncles, and most of my cousins all had curly hair.
There seemed to be a bit of myself in his features. To anyone unaware of the circumstances, they might believe he was my own son.
I fin ...
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