There goes the downpour
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Salem, the boy had been the only thing on his mind for ages now. The only one of his children that bothered to have anything to do with him, even if he didn't quite understand their relation to one another. Did he understand what a father was? Did he know that he could never have existed without one. Conri wondered, silently to himself, if Salem just thought a father was something akin to a close friend. Even so, that was acceptable enough for him. Everything revolved around the young man, whether Salem knew it or not, and it was because of him that Conri had been able to maintain a straight attitude toward the world, a stable frame of mind.



Salem was also the reason that Conri tried to hard to carry the boxes and books, which he tried to keep pinned between his body and his single arm, through the rest of the city. He wanted to find things that the young man might be interested in, things that he might like to have to decorate with, and only a sparse few things for Conri himself. Moving everything was proving to be a much more difficult task that he had expected though, having to go very slow, be careful where the stepped. Despite how careful he was trying to be, a simple slip in a tiny patch of mud sent the items flying from his arm and clattering to the ground. "No!" He could have cried.

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