On the night of last year.
- Who does not?
- Who is it?
- The rice trade here.
- Home away from home then.
But voices like his voice heard the owner. So the collection poked a hole in the door against paper and look inside. Heating owner sitting legs.
- Ah He said the owners were out, but he was here.
The owner angrily:
- Why did you dare to penetrate the door, but this is my home.
- Sorry, I'll fix that.
He revised the hole.
- Done already.
- You no longer see me too?
- Not found.
- So I'm not home.
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