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Summary
That was the last of his voice Ivan would ever hear, wouldn't it be? A voicemail message. An artificial reassurance. He felt his heart drop.
With a sigh, Ivan had begun to speak in low, hoarse words. His throat was raw, wrung entirely dry by harsh sobbing, and his eyes were sore, entirely blurred, trashed by the tears that hadn't quite been able to escape his eyes in time.
"Hey. It's um...It's Ivan."
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