My mind was a jumble of emotions as I stood there, frozen in shock. But as I gazed into the face of the man before me, a memory long buried rose to the surface. I was a child again, sitting on my father's lap, listening to his deep, rumbling voice as he read me a bedtime story. His eyes sparkled with amusement, his hands making animations, and his smile was warm and gentle. I felt safe, loved, and cherished."Elodie, my little star," he whispered, his breath tickling my ear.His voice cut through the daze, and I felt like I was dreaming. I wanted to believe I was dreaming. But as I looked into his eyes, I knew it was real. He was really there, standing in front of me, unchanged since the day he...since the day he died.I stumbled backward, my mind reeling. It couldn't be. My father was dead. I had mourned him, blamed myself for his death. The pain and guilt had haunted me for years.But there he was, not a day older, not a single strand of gray hair. His eyes, his smile, everything wa
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