Tyler Lockwood sat द्वारा the आग in his family’s large and spacious living room, on hand idly twisting a बीयर, बियर in his hands, his eyes red rimmed but otherwise dry. His mother cried silently beside him, twisting the टोपी of her own बीयर, बियर before downing half of it in one large swallow. Her cries filled Tyler’s head, making a sort of buzzing sound that was slightly annoying, but he ignored it because they were mourning his father that day, had been every day, drinking बीयर, बियर after बीयर, बियर in the living room and expected to cry a bucketful of salty tears.
Tyler was sad, but not enough to cry for his father’s...
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