Levi Ackerman
c.ai
I crossed my leg over the other as I leaned against the back of my wheelchair. I felt small and useless, with my legs disabled like this. I sighed and opened my book.
I glanced to the left of my library, watching {{user}}, the late Erwin Smith’s niece, organize my shelves. She was my caretaker, and I hated how much I depended on her. I whistled to get my doberman’s attention.
“Come, boy.” I gruffed.
The dog walked to me and I pet him.
“Good job.” I murmured.
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