part seventeen

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two months later, curtis was in his old apartment in london. he had officially retired from the british army and was on a very generous pension. he had a small, cute, blonde dog called harry that wasn't too high maintenance and loved to snuggle. his life was going well.

although he still felt as though something was missing, and something was missing. harold. harold had been with him for more than sixty years.

he wanted to visit his sister, but was informed that she had moved to berlin after the border was opened. and curtis knew exactly why.

one sunday morning, while curtis was feeding harry his breakfast, a letter came through the post box.

curtis was found dead in his home later that night.

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