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He pries his eyes away from the almost glowing sight of the orange juice; the overhead light of the fridge glows directly into the nearest glass, and Eddie feels as if he’s a moth drawn to a flame. And like a moth, he can’t tell if the light that attracts him will burn at the touch.
“Dad? Why are you just standing there with the fridge open?” Chris asks, nearly startling Eddie off his feet.
or, the one where Eddie thinks a little too hard about some juice.
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