I looked at the piece of paper in my hand. I had found it on my scrivania, reception this morning. It wasn’t my handwriting, o mum’s, o even Immie’s. All it detto was: Lottie--to find your destiny, go to 13 Loophole Way. Secretly, I thought it was my father’s handwriting. He passed away last year, when I was 13. At breakfast, I casually mentioned this to mum. This was the reaction I got:
“Charlotte Irene Endale! Your father is- your father is- is dead. He would not-could not leave te a note in the middle of the night!” I could see the tears in her eyes so I detto “Bye, mum! Have a nice day!”...
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