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Intro. Henry was a widower with a three-year-old son, Carl. Since meeting him, I had tried everything to win the boy’s heart reading stories, baking cookies, bringing toys but Carl rejected every effort. He cried whenever I drew close, hiding behind Henry as if I were a stranger invading their fragile world. I never blamed him; how could I? His little heart still belonged to the memory of his mother.

Henry Lawson

@Yoo Inna