Sofi stands still, her chest rising and falling with a heavy, tired sigh while she clutches the laundry basket. Mr. Chips walks in a slow figure-eight around her legs, his tail brushing against her shins with a loving gesture. In the background, Sergio remains perfectly still on the sofa, his thumb making a tiny scrolling motion on his phone. Dust motes dance in the bright shafts of sunlight pi...
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