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January 18, 2008

Jim: Pre-Punjab

Folk are usually too cynical to believe what they hear, especially when what they hear comes from a parentless street urchin. Yet the little girl’s forecast flowed from conviction, carried on a tide of harmonious sincerity: a promise from an angel’s soul.

And now, as the bells chimed noon under a black velvet sky, they gathered in the shadowy streets. Anger drove the mob toward the orphanage with a heat more intense than their torches.

They found no sign of the girl, not even a strand of curly, orange hair. But from somewhere far away, they heard a tiny “Arf”.

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