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Stephenie Meyer - New Moon. Read more New Moon (The Twilight Saga, Book 2) · Read more · Stephenie Meyer - Twikight 02 - New Moon. Read more. Download Emily of New Moon free in PDF & EPUB format. Download Lucy Maud Montgomery 's Emily of New Moon for your kindle, tablet. sunlight—the kind of blinding clear sun that never shone on my drizzly new hometown in. Forks, Washington—and second, I was looking at my Grandma Marie.
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Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY Visit our Web site at Meyer , Stephenie, —New Moon a novel / b) Stepheme Meyer—1st ed p cm. download twilight new moon ebook pdf free. Download Twilight New Moon Ebook Pdf Free. 11 Reads 0 Votes 1 Part Story. bestdentratu By bestdentratu. When the Cullens, including her beloved Edward, leave Forks rather than risk revealing that they are vampires, it is almost too much for.
She had plenty of company. There was Father--and Mike--and Saucy Sal. The Wind Woman was always around; and there were the trees--Adam- and-Eve, and the Rooster Pine, and all the friendly lady-birches. And there was "the flash," too. She never knew when it might come, and the possibility of it kept her a-thrill and expectant.
Emily had slipped away in the chilly twilight for a walk. She remembered that walk very vividly all her life--perhaps because of a certain eerie beauty that was in it--perhaps because "the flash" came for the first time in weeks--more likely because of what happened after she came back from it. Lucy Maud Montgomery. Eleanor Hallowell Abbott. Ralph Granger's Fortunes.
William Perry Brown. I imagined what my life would be like if Carlisle had resisted the temptation to change his lonely existence… and shuddered. He stared unseeingly out the black windows. I realized Carlisle's memory of them, despite the brevity of their contact, would be perfectly clear.
Her name was Elizabeth. Elizabeth Masen. His father, Edward Senior, never regained consciousness in the hospital. He died in the first wave of the influenza.
But Elizabeth was alert until almost the very end. Edward looks a great deal like her—she had that same strange bronze shade to her hair, and her eyes were exactly the same color green.
She hurt her own chances of survival trying to nurse him from her sickbed. I expected that he would go first, he was so much worse off than she was.
When the end came for her, it was very quick. It was just after sunset, and I'd arrived to relieve the doctors who'd been working all day. That was a hard time to pretend—there was so much work to be done, and I had no need of rest. How I hated to go back to my house, to hide in the dark and pretend to sleep while so many were dying. I'd grown attached—always a dangerous thing to do considering the fragile nature of humans.
I could see at once that she'd taken a bad turn. The fever was raging out of control, and her body was too weak to fight anymore. The fever was so high, she probably couldn't even tell how unnaturally cold mine felt. Everything felt cold to her skin. Her eyes were hard, like stones, like emeralds. What others cannot do, that is what you must do for my Edward. She looked it me with those piercing eyes, and, for one instant, I felt certain that she knew my secret.
Then the fever overwhelmed her, and she never regained consciousness. She died within an hour of making her demand. Just one other creature who could really know me, rather than what I pretended to be. But I could never justify it to myself—doing what had been done to me. It was clear that he had only hours left. Beside him, his mother, her face somehow not yet peaceful, not even in death. I could see it clearly, too, as he spoke—the despair of the hospital, the overwhelming atmosphere of death.
Edward burning with fever, his life slipping away with each tick of the clock… I shuddered again, and forced the picture from my mind. How could she guess what I could do? Could anyone really want that for her son? Sick as he was, he was still beautiful. There was something pure and good about his face.
The kind of face I would have wanted my son to have. I wheeled his mother to the morgue first, and then I came back for him. No one noticed that he was still breathing.
There weren't enough hands, enough eyes, to keep track of half of what the patients needed. The morgue was empty—of the living, at least. I stole him out the back door, and carried him across the rooftops back to my home.
I settled for recreating the wounds I'd received myself, so many centuries earlier in London. I felt bad about that later. It was more painful and lingering than necessary. I've never been sorry that I saved Edward. He smiled at me. He came through the shadowy dining room, walking slowly for him. His face was smooth, unreadable, but there was something wrong with his eyes—something he was trying very hard to hide.
I felt a spasm of unease in my stomach. I looked down at my shirt; the light blue cotton was soaked and spotted with my blood.
My right shoulder was covered in thick pink frosting. You'd give Charlie a heart attack the way you look. I'll have Alice get you something. I looked at Carlisle anxiously. You being put in danger, because of what we are. I couldn't agree with that. Carlisle offered me his hand and helped me up from the table. I followed him out into the main room. Esme had come back; she was mopping the floor where I'd fallen—with straight bleach from the smell of it. Alice and Edward came in the back doors.
Alice hurried to my side, but Edward hung back, his face indecipherable. Charlie wouldn't notice, I was sure. The long white bandage on my arm didn't look nearly as serious when I was no longer spattered in gore. Charlie was never surprised to see me bandaged. Even though we were upstairs, with the door closed, perhaps he could hear me. Her face tensed. It's all so much more of challenge for him, and he hates feeling weak. You'll tell him that I'm not mad at him, not at all, won't you?
As I got to the bottom of the staircase, he held it open without a word. She scooped up the two packages, one half-opened, and my camera from under the piano, and pressed them into my good arm. I could see them stealing quick glances at their impassive son, much like I was.
It was a relief to be outside; I hurried past the lanterns and the roses, now unwelcome reminders. Edward kept pace with me silently. He opened the passenget side for me, and I climbed in without complaint.
On the dashboard was a big red ribbon, stuck to the new stereo. I pulled it off, throwing it to the floor. As Edward slid into the other side, I kicked the ribbon under my seat. He didn't look at me or the stereo.
Neither of us switched it on, and the silence was somehow intensified by the sudden thunder of the engine. He drove too fast down the dark, serpentine lane. The silence was making me insane. I cringed at his remoteness. For what? If you'd cut yourself at Mike Newton's house, with Jessica there and Angela and your other normal friends, the worst that could possibly have happened would be what?
Maybe they couldn't find you a bandage? If you'd tripped and knocked over a pile of glass plates on your own—without someone throwing you into them—even then, what's the worst?
You'd get blood on the seats when they drove you to the emergency room? Mike Newton could have held your hand while they stitched you up—and he wouldn't be righting the urge to kill you the whole time he was there.
Don't try to take any of this on yourself, Bella. It will only make me more disgusted with myself. He glared through the windshield, his expression black. I racked my brain for some way to salvage the evening. When we pulled up in front of my house, I still hadn't come up with anything. He killed the engine, but his hands stayed clenched around the steering wheel.
One or the other. I breathed a silent sigh of relief. I've decided that I don't want you to ignore my birthday. I'll see you upstairs. He frowned. Carlisle and Esme spent money on you. He was out of the truck and by my side in less than a second. I reached up on my toes to make the kiss last longer when he pulled away. He smiled my favorite crooked smile, and then he disappeared into the darkness. The game was still on; as soon as I walked through the front door I could hear the announcer rambling over the babble of the crowd.
I held my arm close to my side. The slight pressure burned, and I wrinkled my nose. The anesthetic was apparently losing its effectiveness. What was left of his curly brown hair was crushed flat on one side. Flowers, cake, candles, presents—the whole bit. It's nothing. I shrugged into the matching tank top and cotton pants that I'd gotten to replace the holey sweats I used to wear to bed, wincing as the movement pulled at the stitches.
I washed my face one-handed, brushed my teeth, and then skipped to my room. He was sitting in the center of my bed, toying idly with one of the silver boxes. His voice was sad. He was wallowing. I went to the bed, pushed the presents out of his hands, and climbed into his lap. He took the gift from my hand and tore the silver paper off with one fluid movement.
He handed the rectangular white box back to me. Inside the box was a long thick piece of paper with an overwhelming amount of fine print. It took me a minute to get the gist of the information. It was a voucher for plane tickets, for both me and Edward. Renee is going to flip! You don't mind, though, do you? It's sunny, you'll have to stay inside all day. I thought you'd complain.
But I get to take you with me! I didn't realize that you were capable of being reasonable. He took it from me and unwrapped it like the first one. He handed back a clear CD jewel case, with a blank silver CD inside. He didn't say anything; he took the CD and reached around me to put it in the CD player on the bedside table.
He hit play, and we waited in silence. Then the music began. I listened, speechless and wide-eyed. I knew he was waiting for my reaction, but I couldn't talk. Tears welled up, and I reached up to wipe them away before they could spill over.
It's beautiful, Edward. You couldn't have given me anything I would love more. I can't believe it. It was his music, his compositions. The first piece on the CD was my lullaby. I wanted ice. I would have settled for his hand, but that would have given me away.
Charlie wasn't exactly aware that Edward frequently stayed over. In fact, he would have a stroke if that fact were brought to his attention.
But I didn't feel too guilty for deceiving him It wasn't as if we were up to anything he wouldn't want me to be up to. Edward and his rules… "He won't catch me," Edward promised as he disappeared silently out the door. He had the glass from the bathroom and the bottle of pills in one hand. I took the pills he handed me without arguing—I knew I would lose the argument And my arm really was starting to bother me. My lullaby continued, soft and lovely, in the background.
He scooped me up off the bed with one arm, and pulled the cover back with the other. He put me down with my head on my pillow and tucked the quilt around me. He lay down next to me—on top of the blanket so I wouldn't get chilled—and put his arm over me.
I leaned my head against his shoulder and sighed happily. Another song began. I recognized Esme's favorite. He hesitated for a second before he told me. He laughed, and then sighed. The kiss began much the same as usual—Edward was as careful as ever, and my heart began to overreact like it always did. And then something seemed to change. Suddenly his lips became much more urgent, his free hand twisted into my hair and held my face securely to his. And, though my hands tangled in his hair, too, and though I was clearly beginning to cross his cautious lines, for once he didn't stop me.
His body was cold through the thin quilt, but I crushed myself against him eagerly. When he stopped it was abrupt; he pushed me away with gentle, firm hands.
I collapsed back onto my pillow, gasping, my head spinning. Something tugged at my memory, elusive, on the edges.
He frowned at me in the darkness. I really did feel exhausted. It had been a long day in so many ways, yet I felt no sense of relief at its end.
Almost as if something worse was coming tomorrow. It was a silly premonition—what could be worse than today? Trying to be sneaky about it, I pressed my injured arm against his shoulder, so his cool skin would sooth the burning. It felt better at once. I was halfway asleep, maybe more, when I realized what his kiss had reminded me of: last spring, when he'd had to leave me to throw James off my trail, Edward had kissed me goodbye, not knowing when—or if—we would see each other again.
This kiss had the same almost painful edge for some reason I couldn't imagine. I shuddered into unconsciousness, as if I were already having a nightmare. It didn't help my outlook that Edward's face was smooth and remote as he kissed my forehead quickly and ducked out my window. I was afraid of the time I'd spent unconscious, afraid that he might have been thinking about right and wrong again while he watched me sleep.
The anxiety seemed to ratchet up the intensity of the pounding in my head. Edward was waiting for me at school, as usual, but his face was still wrong. There was something buried in his eyes that I couldn't be sure of—and it scared me.
I didn't want to bring up last night, but I wasn't sure if avoiding the subject would be worse. He opened my door for me. We walked in silence, he shortening his stride to match mine. There were so many questions I wanted to ask, but most of those questions would have to wait, because chey were for Alice: How was Jasper this morning? What had they said when I was gone? What had Rosalie said? And most importantly, what could she see happening now in her strange, imperfect visions of the future?
Could she guess what Edward was thinking, why he was so gloomy?
Was there a foundation for the tenuous, instinctive fears that I couldn't seem to shake? The morning passed slowly. I was impatient to see Alice, though I wouldn't be able to really talk to her with Edward there. Edward remained aloof. Occasionally he would ask about my arm, and I would lie. Alice usually beat us to lunch; she didn't have to keep pace with a sloth like me. But she wasn't at the table, waiting with a tray of food she wouldn't eat.
Edward didn't say anything about her absence. I wondered to myself if her class was running late—until I saw Conner and Ben, who were in her fourth hour French class. He looked at the granola bar he was slowly pulverizing between his fingertips while he answered. Of course, if Jasper needed her, she would go. She'll be gone for a while.
She was trying to convince him to go to Denali. Tanya and her family. I'd heard of them now and again. Edward had run to them last winter when my arrival had made Forks difficult for him. Laurent, the most civilized member of James's little coven, had gone there rather than siding with James against the Cullens.
It made sense for Alice to encourage Jasper to go there. I swallowed, trying to dislodge the sudden lump in my throat.
The guilt made my head bow and my shoulders slump. I'd run them out of their home, just like Rosalie and Emmett. I was a plague. He didn't answer, and I put my head down on the table. By the end of the day, the silence was becoming ridiculous. I didn't want to be the one to break it, but apparently that was my only choice if I ever wanted him to talk to me again. He always came over. I had to trade with Mrs. Newton to get yesterday off. I expected he would laugh, or smile, or react somehow to my words.
He kissed my forehead again before he shut the door on me. Then he turned his back and loped gracefully toward his car. I was able to drive out of the parking lot before the panic really hit, but I was hyperventilating by the time I got to Newton's. He just needed time, I told myself. He would get over this. Maybe he was sad because his family was disappearing. But Alice and Jasper would come back soon, and Rosalie and Emmett, too. If it would help, I would stay away from the big white house on the river—I'd never set foot there again.
That didn't matter.
I'd still see Alice at school. She would have to come back for school, right? And she was at my place all the time anyway. She wouldn't want to hurt Charlie's feelings by staying away.
No doubt I would also run into Carlisle with regularity—in the emergency room. After all, what had happened last night was nothing.
Nothing had happened. So I fell down—that was the story of my life. Compared to last spring, it seemed especially unimportant. James had left me broken and nearly dead from loss of blood—and yet Edward had handled the interminable weeks in the hospital much better than this.
Was it because, this time, it wasn't an enemy he'd had to protect me from? Because it was his brother? Maybe it would be better if he took me away, rather than his family being scattered. I grew slightly less depressed as I considered all the uninterrupted alone time. If he could just last through the school year, Charlie wouldn't be able to object. We could go away to college, or pretend that's what we were doing, like Rosalie and Emmett this year. Surely Edward could wait a year.
What was a year to an immortal? It didn't even seem like that much to me. I was able to talk myself into enough composure to handle getting out of the truck and walking to the store. Mike Newton had beaten me here today, and he smiled and waved when I came in. I grabbed my vest, nodding vaguely in his direction.
I was still imagining pleasant scenarios that consisted of me running away with Edward to various exotic locales. Mike interrupted my fantasy. Work dragged. I wanted to see Edward again, praying that he would be past the worst of this, whatever it was exactly, by the time I saw him again.
It's nothing, I told myself over and over again. Everything will go back to normal. The relief I felt when I turned onto my street and saw Edward's silver car parked in front of my house was an overwhelming, heady thing.
And it bothered me deeply that it should be that way. I hurried through the front door, calling out before I was completely inside.
I hung my raincoat on its peg and hurried around the corner. Edward was in the armchair, my father on the sofa. Both had their eyes trained on the TV. The focus was normal for my father. Not so much for Edward.
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I think it's still on the table. Finally, Edward looked over at me with a polite smile. His eyes strayed back to the TV. I stared for another minute, shocked. Neither one seemed to notice. I could feel something, panic maybe, building up in my chest. I escaped to the kitchen. The pizza held no interest for me.
I sat in my chair, pulled my knees up, and wrapped my arms around them. Something was very wrong, maybe more wrong than I'd realized. The sounds of male bonding and banter continued from the TV set. I tried to get control of myself, to reason with myself. What's the worst that can happen?
I flinched. That was definitely the wrong question to ask. I was having a hard time breathing right. Okay, I thought again, what's the worst I can live through? I didn't like that question so much, either. But I thought through the possibilities I'd considered today.
Staying away from Edward's family. Of course, he wouldn't expect Alice to be part of that. But if Jasper was off limits, that would lessen the time I could have with her.
I nodded to myself—I could live with that. Or going away. Maybe he wouldn't want to wait till the end of the school year, maybe it would have to be now. In front of me, on the table, my presents from Charlie and Renee were where I had left them, the camera I hadn't had the chance to use at the Cullens' sitting beside the album. I touched the pretty cover of the scrapbook my mother had given me, and sighed, thinking of Renee.
Somehow, living without her for as long as I had did not make the idea of a more permanent separation easier. And Charlie would be left all alone here, abandoned. They would both be so hurt… But we'd come back, right? We'd visit, of course, wouldn't we? I couldn't be certain about the answer to that.
I leaned my cheek against my knee, staring at the physical tokens of my parents' love. I'd known this path I'd chosen was going to be hard. And, after all, I was thinking about the worst-case scenario—the very worst I could live through. I touched the scrapbook again, flipping the front cover over.
Little metal corners were already in place to hold the first picture. It wasn't a half-bad idea, to make some record of my life here. I felt a strange urge to get started. Maybe I didn't have that long left in Forks.
I toyed with the wrist strap on the camera, wondering about the first picture on the roll. Could it possibly turn out anything close to the original? I doubted it. But he didn't seem worried that it would be blank. I chuckled to myself, thinking of his carefree laughter last night. The chuckle died away. So much had changed, and so abruptly. It made me feel a little bit dizzy, like I was standing on an edge, a precipice somewhere much too high. I didn't want to think about that anymore.
I grabbed the camera and headed up the stairs. My room hadn't really changed all that much in the seventeen years since my mother had been here. The walls were still light blue, the same yellowed lace curtains hung in front of the window. There was a bed, rather than a crib, but she would recognize the quilt draped untidily over the top—it had been a gift ROM Gran. Regardless, I snapped a picture of my room.
There wasn't much else I could do tonight—it was too dark outside—and the feeling was growing stronger, it was almost a compulsion now. I would record everything about Forks before I had to leave it. Change was coming. I could feel it. It wasn't a pleasant prospect, not when life was perfect the way it was. I took my time coming back down the stairs, camera in hand, trying to ignore the butterflies in my stomach as I thought of the strange distance I didn't want to see in Edward's eyes.
Probably he was worried that I would be upset when he asked me to leave. I would let him work through it without meddling. And I would be prepared when he asked. I had the camera ready as I leaned around the corner, being sneaky. I was sure there was no chance that I had caught Edward by surprise, but he didn't look up. I felt a brief shiver as something icy twisted in my stomach; I ignored that and took the picture. They both looked at me then.
Charlie frowned. Edward's face was empty, expressionless. I have to get to work before she can get her feelings hurt.
Charlie sighed. I did my best, and the camera flashed.
I knew he was just trying to shift the camera's focus from himself. Edward stood and lightly tossed him the camera. I went to stand beside Edward, and the arrangement felt formal and strange to me.
He put one hand lightly on my shoulder, and I wrapped my arm more securely around his waist. I wanted to look at his face, but I was afraid to. I took a deep breath and smiled. The flash blinded me. He sat back down in the armchair. I hesitated, and then went to sit against the sofa again. I was suddenly so frightened that my hands were shaking. I pressed them into my stomach to hide them, put my chin on my knees and stared at the TV screen in front of me, seeing nothing.
When the show ended, I hadn't moved an inch. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Edward stand. Charlie didn't look up from the commercial. He went straight to his car. I expected his answer, so it didn't hurt as much. He got in his car and drove away while I stood there, unmoving.
I barely noticed that it was raining. I waited, without knowing what I waited for, until the door opened behind me. It was a long night, with little in the way of rest. I got up as soon as there was a faint light outside my window. I dressed for school mechanically, waiting for the clouds to brighten. When I had eaten a bowl of cereal, I decided that it was light enough for pictures.
I took one of my truck, and then the front of the house. I turned and snapped a few of the forest by Charlie's house. Funny how it didn't seem sinister like it used to. I realized I would miss this—the green, the timelessness, the mystery of the woods. All of it. I put the camera in my school bag before I left.
I tried to concentrate on my new project rather than the fact that Edward apparently hadn't gotten over things during the night. Along with the fear, I was beginning to feel impatience. How long could this last? It lasted through the morning. He walked silently beside me, never seeming to actually look at me. I tried to concentrate on my classes, but not even English could hold my attention. Berty had to repeat his question about Lady Capulet twice before I realized he was talking to me.
Edward whispered the correct answer under his breath and then went back to ignoring me. At lunch, the silence continued. I felt like I was going to start screaming at any moment, so, to distract myself, I leaned across the table's invisible line and spoke to Jessica. So, take some pictures of everybody, okay? A predictable picture war ensued. I watched them hand the camera around the table, giggling and flirting and complaining about being on film.
It seemed strangely childish. Maybe I just wasn't in the mood for normal human behavior today. I think I already got pictures of everything else I needed.
I had to work again, and for once, I was glad. Time with me obviously wasn't helping things. Maybe time alone would be better. I dropped my film off at the Thriftway on my way to Newton's, and then picked up the developed pictures after work. At home, I said a brief hi to Charlie, grabbed a granola bar from the kitchen, and hurried up to my room with the envelope of photographs tucked under my arm.
I sat in the middle of my bed and opened the envelope with wary curiosity. Ridiculously, I still half expected the first print to be a blank. When I pulled it out, I gasped aloud. Edward looked just as beautiful as he did in real life, staring at me out of the picture with the warm eyes I'd missed for the past few days. It was almost uncanny that anyone could look so… so… beyond description. No thousand words could equal this picture.
I flipped through the rest of the stack quickly once, and then laid three of them out on the bed side by side. The first was the picture of Edward in the kitchen, his warm eyes touched with tolerant amusement. The difference in Edward's expression was severe. His eyes were careful here, reserved. Still breathtakingly beautiful, but his face was colder, more like a sculpture, less alive.
The last was the picture of Edward and me standing awkwardly side by side. Edward's face was the same as the last, cold and statue-like. But that wasn't the most troubling part of this photograph. The contrast between the two of us was painful. He looked like a god. I looked very average, even for a human, almost shamefully plain. I flipped the picture over with a feeling of disgust. Instead of doing my homework, I stayed up to put my pictures into the album.
With a ballpoint pen I scrawled captions under all the pictures, the names and the dates. I got to the picture of Edward and me, and, without looking at it too long, I folded it in half and stuck it under the metal tab, Edward-side up.
When I was done, I stuffed the second set of prints in a fresh envelope and penned a long thank-you letter to Renee. Edward still hadn't come over. I didn't want to admit that he was the reason I'd stayed up so late, but of course he was. I tried to remember the last time he'd stayed away like this, without an excuse, a phone call… He never had. Again, I didn't sleep well. School followed the silent, frustrating, terrifying pattern of the last two days.
I felt relief when I saw Edward waiting for me in the parking lot, but it faded quickly. He was no different, unless maybe more remote.
It was hard to even remember the reason for all this mess. My birthday already felt like the distant past. If only Alice would come back. Before this got any more out of hand. But I couldn't count on that. I decided that, if I couldn't talk to him today, really talk, then I was going to see Carlisle tomorrow. I had to do something. After school, Edward and I were going to talk it out, I promised myself.
I wasn't accepting any excuses. He walked me to my truck, and I steeled myself to make my demands.
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I'll meet you there. Suddenly, he reached over me and snagged it. It didn't reach his eyes. He shut the door, and headed toward his car. He did beat me home. He was parked in Charlie's spot when I pulled up in front of the house. That was a bad sign. He didn't plan to stay, then. I shook my head and took a deep breath, trying to locate some courage. He got out of his car when I stepped out of the truck, and came to meet me. He reached to take my book bag from me.
That was normal. But he shoved it back onto the seat. That was not normal. I didn't answer. I couldn't think of a way to protest, but I instantly knew that I wanted to.
I didn't like this. This is bad, this is very bad, the voice in my head repeated again and again. But he didn't wait for an answer.
He pulled me along toward the east side of the yard, where the forest encroached. I followed unwillingly, trying to think through the panic. It was what I wanted, I reminded myself. The chance to talk it all through.
So why was the panic choking me? We'd gone only a few steps into the trees when he stopped. We were barely on the trail—I could still see the house. Some walk. Edward leaned against a tree and stared at me, his expression unreadable.It was a relief to be outside; I hurried past the lanterns and the roses, now unwelcome reminders.
He put me down with my head on my pillow and tucked the quilt around me. I put the camera in my school bag before I left. Der blaue Mond, Band 2 He helped me out of the car, pulled me up the stairs, and was still laughing as he opened the door for me. Unlike Alice, Edward's other "adopted" sister, the golden blond and exquisite Rosalie, didn't like me much. It was a silly premonition-what could be worse than today?
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