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Summary
He didn’t have a life to savour, not anymore. There was no point in grieving, except maybe to pass the time. Tears won’t wash away spilt milk, or something like that. The future remained unchanged.
Three colourless walls.
Fifty-two metal bars–he’d counted a few dozen times.
Low, grey ceiling adorned with two triangular cobwebs, whose occupants had been missing for quite some time.
This was the life of Sirius Orion Black.
