Lydia is in the main room on the floor, stretched out staring into a cage where a white dove is nestled. A small smile is tipped across her face as she watches the bird, a part of her father's magic act that has become her pet. Beside her is her favorite doll, posed into a sitting position, within arm's reach should she want it
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"Hello. Is that your bird?"
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"Would you like to see her? She may let you hold her if she's in a good mood."
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