Tenderly, she eased the clean fleece over her little boy’s hand and up around his plump shoulder. The steady rain washing the town’s streets had chilled the usually warm Sichuan weather.
He didn’t look alarmed or frightened but dirt and blood were caked on his forehead. She touched his hair and then they pulled up the zipper on the bodybag and carried him away. Only her husband marked her howls.
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