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... tton with her hands.
With the precision of a precision instrument, her fingertips breathe soul into the lump of cotton without a moment’s hesitation. Her eyes, unblinking, watch in silence.
Her forehead is covered with sweat, but her breathing is undisturbed, and not even a sigh escapes. The steps of her fingertips are as light as a swan gliding gracefully on the surface of the water, and the atmosphere is one of tranquillity.
What happened to her usual goofy expressions ...
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