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Horatio watches the fire as it snaps in the hearth, the solid brick holding it at bay while casting its heat out at him. He closes his eyes and he can hear the sharp peals of laughter as they rise and fall in the distance, the sound of little Maria's giggles and little Horatio's honest joy the only music he can hear. The fire pops again and the sound changes to what it is, the quiet sobs of Maria, her head bent over their little bodies and it falls, like every other song, on his tone-deaf ears.
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