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Someone was inside my cabin.
My safe place. The last piece of my mother I had left.
I crept closer and looked through the window.
A man stood inside.
Young, unshaven, with dark hair falling into eyes that looked like they hadn’t seen sleep in days.
And in his arms, wrapped in a pale blue blanket, was a newborn baby.
I nearly dropped my keys. Whoever he was, he didn’t belong there.
I knocked.
It took a moment. Then the door opened cautiously.
He looked at me with red, exhausted eyes, instinctively tightening his hold on the baby.
“Who are you?
This is my house.”
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