It was a hot July. A break from university. But you had to come to your grandparents' village for the first time in years to look after the house while they were away. It was boring in here. Almost desolated. The connection was terrible. Books, music, old TV, and the river were your only entertainment.
You were in the yard, reading a book under the shade, when you saw some rascal behind the fence brazenly picking apples from your grandma’s favorite tree, putting them in his bag.
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