A grieving, lonely fisherman found hope and a reason to live when he discovered a baby boy abandoned on his doorstep. He adopted the boy and raised him with boundless love and pride. But 17 years later, a wealthy stranger arrived, threatening to tear their world apart and take the boy away.
The weathered fishing boat rocked gently against the dock as Lucas secured the last knot. At 54, his calloused hands moved with practiced ease, even as arthritis crept into his joints.
The small house on the village outskirts waited for him, just as it had every evening since Maria passed. No children’s laughter, no warm embrace — just the quiet company of his thoughts and the photos of the woman he’d loved too much to replace.
A man tying a boat | Source: Midjourney
“Evening, Lucas!” Old Tom called from his porch. “Good catch today?”
“Just enough,” Lucas answered, lifting his basket. “The fish aren’t as lonely as we are, eh?”
“You ought to get yourself a dog at least,” Tom suggested, not for the first time. “That cottage needs some life in it.”
Lucas smiled politely but said nothing. Maria had loved dogs. That was reason enough not to get one.
A sad man standing outside his cottage | Source: Midjourney
The flames danced in the fireplace as he settled into his chair, another solitary evening stretching before him. The day’s routine played through his mind: watering the tomatoes at dawn, feeding the chickens, and walking the empty streets to his boat.
He glanced at Maria’s photo on the mantel. “Should’ve listened when you wanted children,” he murmured. “Always said we had time. Now look at me, talking to your picture like you might answer back.”
Suddenly, a sound cut through his thoughts, faint but distinct. It was like a whimper or a cry carried on the winter wind. Lucas lowered his coffee cup and listened. There it was again, more insistent this time.
A man sitting by the fireplace | Source: Midjourney
His joints protested as he rose and shuffled to the door. The porch boards creaked beneath his feet as he peered into the darkness. Another cry, clearer now.
“Hello?” he called, but only silence answered.
His heart nearly stopped when he saw it — a woven basket on his doorstep, blankets stirring inside. As he knelt beside it, tiny fingers reached up, grasping at the cold night air.
“Dear God,” he whispered, gathering the bundle into his arms. A baby boy, no more than a few months old, stared up at him with big, curious eyes.
A baby wrapped in blankets in a basket | Source: Midjourney
“Where did you come from, little one?” Lucas scanned the empty street, but whoever had left this precious cargo was long gone, leaving just a note in the basket:
“Don’t look for me. Please take care of him. And love him like your own. Thanks & Goodbye.”
The baby whimpered, and Lucas felt something stir in his chest. It was an emotion he thought had died with Maria.
“Shh, it’s alright,” he soothed, cradling the child close. “Let’s get you warm. Maria,” he whispered to the night sky, “I think you might’ve had a hand in this. You always said miracles come when we least expect them.”
A man holding a baby | Source: Unsplash
Inside, Lucas wrapped the baby in one of Maria’s old quilts, its faded flowers still soft after all these years. The infant’s cries settled into gentle coos as Lucas warmed some milk on the stove, remembering how old Tom’s daughter used to feed her babies.
“You need a name, little one,” he murmured, testing the milk’s temperature on his wrist. The baby’s tiny fingers wrapped around his weathered thumb, holding on with surprising strength. “You’ve got a good grip there. Like a fisherman.”
The baby gurgled, his eyes fixed on Lucas’s face with what seemed like curiosity. A tear rolled down Lucas’s cheek as he remembered Maria’s words from years ago:“A child’s love is the purest thing in this world.”
A baby covered in a cozy white blanket | Source: Unsplash
“Matias,” he said softly, the name coming to him like a whisper from the past. It was Maria’s father’s name, a good strong name for a boy. “What do you think about that, little one? Would you like to be Matias?”
The baby cooed, a smile breaking across his tiny face. Lucas felt his heart melt completely.
“Then it’s decided. You’ll be my son, Matias. I may not have much, but everything I have is yours. We’ll figure this out together.”
A man holding a baby | Source: Midjourney
That night, Lucas made a makeshift crib from an old wooden crate, lining it with soft blankets. He placed it next to his bed, unable to bear the thought of the child being alone in another room.
As moonlight filtered through the window, he watched Matias’s chest steadily rise and fall.
“I promise you,” he whispered, reaching down to touch the baby’s velvet cheek, “I’ll be the father you deserve.”
The baby slept peacefully, one tiny hand still curled around Lucas’s finger, as if already knowing he was home.
A baby holding a man’s finger | Source: Pexels
Seventeen years passed like leaves on the wind.
The garden grew fuller, nourished by the sound of Matias’s laughter. Every morning, Lucas would wake to find Matias already in the garden, talking to the chickens as he fed them.
“Morning, Dad!” Matias would call out. “Rosa laid two eggs today. She’s your favorite, isn’t she?”
“Just like you’re my favorite son,” Lucas would reply with a wink.
“I’m your only son,” Matias would laugh, the sound warming Lucas’s heart more than any summer sun.
A cheerful teenage boy laughing | Source: Midjourney
One morning, as they worked together in the garden, Matias looked up suddenly. “Dad? Remember when you told me about finding me?”
Lucas’s hands stilled on the tomato vines. “Of course.”
“Were you… were you ever sorry? That someone left me here?”
Lucas pulled his son close, soil-covered hands and all. “Matias, you weren’t left here. You were given to me. The greatest gift I’ve ever received.”
“Even greater than when Mom said yes to marrying you?” Matias asked, his voice muffled against Lucas’s shirt.
“She would have loved you to the moon and back,” Lucas said, his voice rough with emotion. “Sometimes I see her in the way you tend to these plants. She had that same gentle touch.”
A cheerful older man smiling | Source: Midjourney
Each morning, Lucas watched his son devour breakfast before school, marveling at how the abandoned baby had grown into this bright, energetic young man. Matias’s eyes — so mysterious that first night — now sparkled with intelligence and mischief.
“Dad!” he called, bursting through the door after school. “Coach says I might make team captain next season!”
Lucas looked up from his fishing nets, pride warming his weathered face. “That’s my boy. Your mother would have—” He caught himself, as he sometimes did, speaking of Maria as if she were Matias’s birth mother.
A delighted teenage boy at the doorway | Source: Midjourney
“Tell me about her again?” Matias asked softly. “About how she used to garden? How she’d sing while cooking?”
“Another time, son. These nets won’t mend themselves.”
“You always say that,” Matias teased, grabbing an apple from the bowl. “One day you’ll run out of nets to mend, and then you’ll have to tell me everything.”
“Everything, eh?” Lucas chuckled. “Like how you used to think the chickens laid different colored eggs because they ate rainbow seeds?”
Suddenly, the screech of tires outside cut through their comfortable chatter. Through the window, Lucas watched a sleek red Mercedes pull up. It looked completely out of place in their humble neighborhood, like a peacock in a chicken coop.
A red car outside a cottage | Source: Midjourney
A tall man in an expensive suit emerged from the car, his shoes too shiny for their dusty street. He approached with purpose, each step measured and confident.
The knock, when it came, seemed to echo through the house.
“Can I help you?” Lucas asked, opening the door just wide enough.
“Mr. Lucas?” The man’s voice was cultured and careful. “I’m Elijah. We need to talk about the boy. I’m here to take him.”
A rich, suited man at a doorway | Source: Midjourney
The words hit Lucas like a gut punch. He had always lived in constant fear of their peaceful life being shattered. But he never imagined it would happen so quickly.
“Who on earth are you? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, his fingers tightening on the doorframe until his knuckles went white.
“I think you do.” Elijah’s eyes fixed on a point over Lucas’s shoulder. “Hello, Matias.”
“How do you know my name?” Matias stepped forward, despite Lucas’s protective arm.
“Because you’re my nephew and I’ve been looking for you for 17 years.” Elijah’s voice softened. “May I come in? This isn’t a conversation for doorways.”
A startled teenage boy | Source: Midjourney
Lucas felt his legs go weak, but he stepped aside. In the living room, Matias sat close to him on the worn sofa, their shoulders touching.
“You can’t just come in here,” Lucas said, his voice trembling. “You can’t just walk into our lives after 17 years and—”
“Dad,” Matias touched his arm gently. “Let’s hear him out.”
The story spilled out like water from a broken dam. Elijah spoke of his sister — Matias’s mother — of her struggles, her disappearance, and her deathbed confession just weeks ago.
A shocked senior man | Source: Midjourney
“She was young and scared,” Elijah explained, his perfectly manicured hands clasped in his lap. “Our father wouldn’t have understood. She ran away with you after her boyfriend, your dad, dumped her, hoping you could have a better life than she could provide at that time.”
“So she left me on a doorstep?” Matias’s voice cracked. “Like I was NOTHING?”
“She watched,” Elijah said softly. “She watched Lucas take you in. Watched from afar as you grew. She chose this house because she’d seen Lucas with his wife, before. She knew you’d be loved here. She told us everything when we found her, after 17 exhausting years.”
A man staring at someone | Source: Midjourney
“You have to understand,” Elijah continued, turning to Lucas, “he’s all we have left of her. And there’s so much waiting for him. The best schools, connections, opportunities. A life beyond…” he gestured at their modest surroundings.
“This life,” Lucas interrupted, his voice fierce, “has been filled with more love than any luxurious mansion could hold.”
“Dad, please,” Matias whispered, squeezing his hand.
A distressed older man holding his head | Source: Midjourney
“He’s right though, isn’t he?” Lucas’s voice broke. “You deserve more than fish nets and vegetable gardens. More than an old man’s company.”
“He deserves a better life,” Elijah chimed in.
“I want to go,” Matias said softly after a long silence.
Lucas turned, stung. The words felt like Maria dying all over again.
“Son—”
An emotional teenage boy with his eyes downcast | Source: Midjourney
“Just to know them. To understand.” Matias’s eyes pleaded for understanding. “I’ll come back, Dad. I promise. I need to know where I came from to know where I’m going.”
“Of course you will.” Lucas forced the words past the lump in his throat. “This is your home. It always will be.”
The goodbye was quick, too quick for 17 years of love. Lucas helped pack a bag, his hands shaking as he folded Matias’s favorite blue sweater, the one he’d saved three months of fishing money to buy.
An emotional man holding a blue sweater | Source: Midjourney
“The garden,” Matias said suddenly, pausing at the door. “Don’t let it die while I’m gone. Mom’s roses especially.”
Lucas nodded, not trusting his voice.
“I’ll call every day,” Matias promised, hugging him fiercely. “Every single day. And I’ll be back before you know it.”
Lucas stood in the doorway, watching the red Mercedes disappear, taking his heart with it. The last thing he saw was Matias’s face turned backward, watching him through the rear window, pressing his hand against the glass.
A boy sitting in a car | Source: Midjourney
Days blurred together. And the silence around Lucas grew heavier with each passing week.
Matias’s calls came regularly at first, full of wonder at his new world. Then, less frequently, shorter, until they felt like conversations with a stranger.
The vegetables ripened and died on the vine. Lucas couldn’t bear to pick them up without Matias’s help. Even the chickens seemed to miss him. Rosa wouldn’t lay eggs for days, and the others pecked listlessly at their feed.
“He’s not coming back, is he, girl?” Lucas murmured to Rosa one morning. “Can’t blame him. Who’d choose this hut over the castle they’re offering him?”
A sad older man hugging a chicken | Source: Midjourney
Every night, he’d sit in Matias’s room, looking at the soccer trophies, the school photos, and the little seashell collection they’d gathered together over the years.
“He’s living the life he deserves,” Lucas told Maria’s picture each night. “The life you’d have wanted for our own. But God, I miss him. Miss him like I miss you.”
The house felt bigger somehow. And emptier. The silence was no longer peaceful but oppressive. Lucas found himself talking to the chickens more, just to hear a voice — any voice — in the yard.
A teary-eyed older man sitting in a chair | Source: Midjourney
Then, one evening, a knock came at the door as Lucas sat staring at his untouched dinner. Different from that first time. Softer, uncertain.
He opened the door to find Matias standing there, shoulders slumped and eyes red.
“I couldn’t sleep,” Matias said simply. “The beds are too soft and the house is too big. Everything’s too much and not enough.”
“Son, what are you—”
A heartbroken boy holding his head | Source: Midjourney
“They’re nice, Dad. They’re my blood. But you’re…” Matias’s voice broke. “You’re my FATHER! The only one I’ve ever needed. The only one I’ll ever need. I can’t be without you.”
“The chickens have been clucking your name all day!” Lucas joked, wiping away a tear.
“Just the chickens?” Matias managed a watery smile.
Tears welled in Lucas’s eyes as he looked at his son, his heart overflowing with love and pride. “What about your uncle?”
An emotional older man crying | Source: Midjourney
“Don’t worry, Dad. I’m sure he’ll come for me again. But this time, I’m not leaving you… no matter what.”
Lucas pulled him close, feeling the tears soaking into his shirt. “Welcome home, son! Welcome home.”
As they walked into the house, Matias looked around, his face glowing with nostalgia and relief. He took Lucas’s hand, holding it tightly as if to make up for the weeks they’d been apart. They knew they were all each other needed.
Silhouette of a man with a teenage boy | Source: Midjourney
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
My Family Had Been Feuding with the Neighbors for Years, but Everything Got Worse When I Met Him Again – Story of the Day
My family’s feud with the neighbors had lasted for decades, filled with constant arguments and petty battles. I thought I’d left it all behind, but coming home for Christmas brought the chaos back. Then I saw him again—the man I wasn’t supposed to care about—and everything became even more complicated.
I couldn’t remember how it started or what caused the very first fight, but the Rogers family had been the main enemy of my family ever since we moved into this house 20 years ago.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
It felt like every day brought a new reason for conflict—whether it was the placement of the fence, an offhand comment, or even the weather.
At first, it was just my dad and Mr. Rogers bickering, their raised voices carrying across the yard.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
My mom, ever the optimist, tried baking pies for Mrs. Rogers or complimenting her garden.
But the day Mrs. Rogers accidentally trampled my mom’s beloved roses, all attempts at peace were over.
For me, though, it was different. I had Mike. He was my age, and despite the feud, we became secret friends. We knew the truth would only cause trouble.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Everything changed one day when we were both 14. I came home and froze as I saw my parents, red-faced and shouting in the living room.
“How could you be friends with that boy?!” my dad yelled, slamming his hand on the table.
“After everything that family has done to us?!” my mom added, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“What? I don’t understand…” I said, my voice shaking.
“Don’t play innocent with us!” my dad snapped. “We caught that boy climbing the tree to your window. He said he wanted to surprise you for your birthday!”
I stared at them, stunned. “I didn’t—” The words caught in my throat.
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“You will not see him again,” my mom said firmly, pointing toward my room.
“But why?!” I shouted, my chest tightening. “Why can’t I be friends with Mike just because you can’t stand the Rogers?!”
“That family has caused us enough trouble!” my dad bellowed.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Mike hasn’t done anything wrong!” I shot back. “And don’t act like you’re saints. You’ve done awful things to them too!”
“Go to your room!” my dad roared. “You’re grounded! No more Mike—ever!”
Furious, I ran to my room and slammed the door so hard the walls seemed to shake. Every few minutes, I glanced out the window, hoping to see Mike.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
When his light finally came on, I felt a flicker of hope, but then he pulled his curtains shut without even looking my way. My chest ached as I cried until I couldn’t anymore.
At school the next day, I tried to talk to him, but he turned away like I wasn’t even there.
Soon, his friends started spreading cruel rumors. I knew Mike could stop it if he wanted, but he didn’t say a word.
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The lies grew worse, and I couldn’t take it anymore. When my parents saw how much it hurt me, they decided I needed to switch schools.
Many years have passed since then. I was almost 30 now, far from that 14-year-old girl, but some wounds lingered.
The sting of those childhood memories wasn’t as sharp, but they hadn’t completely faded either.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Sometimes I wondered why I still cared at all, especially since no one else seemed to have changed.
When I came home for Christmas, the first sight that greeted me was my dad and Mr. Rogers standing outside, yelling at each other.
“Your decorations aren’t even a meter tall!” Mr. Rogers yelled, pointing at our yard.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Well, your lights couldn’t even light up a closet!” my dad shot back, crossing his arms.
“Hi, Dad,” I said, dragging my suitcase past them, but he didn’t even glance my way.
“Of course, Mr. Rogers is more important than your daughter, who you haven’t seen in six months,” I muttered under my breath, rolling my eyes.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Inside, I found my mom peering out the kitchen window.
“Hi, Mom,” I said, setting my bag down.
“Oh, Alice, come look!” she said, waving me over with urgency. “I think that woman stole my pie recipe!”
I stepped up to the window, confused. “What are you talking about?”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Look at her! She’s using the same spices as me!” Mom declared, pointing at Mrs. Rogers.
“How can you even see that from here?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I know it!” she insisted, shaking her head.
“This is ridiculous,” I said, turning to leave for my old room.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Everything in my room was exactly as I had left it. The posters still hung on the walls, and my old books sat neatly on the shelves.
I wandered to the window, glancing outside. Across the yard, a light shone in Mike’s room, catching my attention.
My heart skipped as he appeared in the window. I hadn’t seen him in many years.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Mom said he went abroad to study and then stayed there. He looked so different—no longer the boy I once knew, but a man, confident and undeniably handsome.
I raised my hand, giving him a small wave. For a second, I thought he might wave back.
Instead, he pulled his curtains closed, shutting me out completely. My chest tightened, anger bubbling up.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
How could he? We had been friends once, yet he ignored me now like I didn’t exist.
That evening, after my parents finally stopped bickering with the Rogers, we ate dinner in tense silence.
The next morning, Mom handed me a shopping list. “We need this for Christmas dinner,” she said.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
After I finished shopping and walked to the parking lot, I stopped short. There he was—Mike.
“Hey,” I said, stepping toward him. Mike glanced at me but kept walking, ignoring me completely.
“Seriously?” I snapped. “I should be the one ignoring you after everything you did to me!”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Mike froze, then turned to face me, his eyes blazing. “After everything I did?” he shouted.
“Oh, so you can talk?” I yelled back. “Yes, after what you did! You ignored me, let your friends spread lies about me, and then you just disappeared abroad without a word!”
“Are you kidding me? Don’t pretend you don’t know,” Mike said, his voice rising. “You lied to your parents and told them I was stealing from you! I got grounded for a month because of that! And I liked you, Alice—I was in love with you!”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“What are you even talking about?” I shouted, throwing up my hands. “I defended you! I got grounded for standing up for you! Where did you get that crazy idea?”
“My dad told me,” Mike said, his tone harsh but uncertain now.
“Your dad, the same guy who hates my family?” I asked, shaking my head. “And you believed him?”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Mike looked down, his shoulders tense. “I felt betrayed,” he admitted. “And he said he wouldn’t pay for college if I kept seeing you.”
“They threatened me too,” I said, my voice softer now, “but I still tried. You acted like I didn’t exist. And now, almost 30 years old, you’re still holding onto this?”
Mike sighed, his voice low. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I shouldn’t have believed him. I was a jerk.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Better late than never,” I said with a faint smile. “Want to grab a bite to eat?”
“I’d love to,” Mike replied, his face relaxing into a small smile.
As we walked toward a nearby café, I teased, “So, you were in love with me?”
“Shut up,” he said, grinning.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
The days before Christmas passed quickly as Mike and I spent every moment we could together.
It felt like being kids again, sneaking around to avoid our parents, sharing stories, and laughing at memories we thought we had forgotten. We talked about everything, making up for lost time.
One evening, just before Christmas, Mike grinned at me. “Let’s climb the tree, like old times,” he said. I couldn’t resist.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Hope there’s mistletoe up there,” Mike said, grinning as he climbed the tree.
I laughed, glancing up at him. “Still in love with me?” I teased, keeping my voice light.
Mike stopped climbing for a moment and looked down at me. “All over again,” he said, his voice serious. I felt my cheeks flush and looked away, trying to focus on the next branch.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
We climbed higher, but suddenly, I heard a crack. “Mike, wait—” I started, but it was too late.
The branch beneath his foot snapped, and he fell straight onto me. We hit the ground with a thud, tangled together in a heap.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice breathless.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
I nodded, then burst out laughing. “You’ve gained weight,” I said, looking at him with mock judgment.
“I’m light as a feather,” he shot back, holding my gaze.
We both stopped laughing, the air between us changing. His face was so close I could see every detail.
Slowly, he leaned in and kissed me. I smiled against his lips, my heart pounding.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“What on earth is going on?!” my dad’s voice roared from behind us.
“This is outrageous!” Mrs. Rogers shrieked.
We scrambled to our feet, turning to see our parents glaring at each other.
“How dare you touch my daughter?!” my mom shouted, stepping forward.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
The yelling grew louder, insults flying back and forth. Mike and I exchanged a look of pure frustration.
“Enough!” Mike yelled, his voice cutting through the chaos. “I’m sick of your fights! You’re adults, but you act like children! Alice and I aren’t teenagers anymore, and I won’t let you interfere in our lives!”
Grabbing my hand, he pulled me toward his car.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Where are you going?!” Mrs. Rogers shouted.
“If you can’t behave, we’ll spend Christmas Eve at a hotel!” Mike called. “Anywhere is better than here!”
We checked into the only hotel in town. It was small, with an artificial fireplace in the room. We sat by it, letting the silence settle around us.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“I didn’t expect that speech from you,” I said, glancing at Mike.
He looked at the flames. “I’ve had enough of their fights. It was one of the reasons I moved abroad. I thought I could escape it all. But leaving meant losing you, and I won’t let that happen again.”
His words made me smile. I leaned in and kissed him softly, but a knock at the door interrupted us.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Mike stood up to open it, and to our shock, all four parents were there.
“We’re sorry,” my dad said, looking awkward.
“We shouldn’t have reacted that way,” Mr. Rogers added.
“You’re adults, and we can’t tell you what to do,” Mrs. Rogers admitted.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Now get your butts back home for Christmas Eve dinner,” my mom said firmly.
“You won’t fight?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.
“We’ll manage for one evening,” my mom promised.
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“If we’re dating, it’ll be more than one evening,” Mike said, squeezing my hand.
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” my dad muttered.
We laughed, left the hotel, and returned home. Dinner still had its moments of tension, but it felt like progress.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
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If you enjoyed this story, read this one: A struggling actress takes an unusual job after being hired by a wealthy man’s mother to pose as his girlfriend and sabotage his upcoming wedding. But as she spends more time with him and his fiancée, she questions her actions and the price of her desperation. What will she choose?
This piece is inspired by stories from the everyday lives of our readers and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only. Share your story with us; maybe it will change someone’s life.
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