Happy Life
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When I was eleven, I was sledding down an icy hill on a lake, and in the pitch darkness and chaos of bodies, some fat guy crashed into me from above, hitting my palm with his boot. I had a very serious fracture with many fragments, and it healed crookedly; the doctors wanted to break it again and insert a rod. But I did a lot of physiotherapy, and now this hand is even better than my uninjured one – it looks the same, but it bends better and is generally more flexible.
My sword, my trusted ally, unphased by my aspect.
