The final stitch tugs into place as I cut the thread. I look at the raw skin and nod before wiping it down with a clean cloth and take a deep breath. I did it, I saved this man's life. There, I think I got it. He's going to be sore, but he'll live, and your magic can help with the soreness. I tell my boss, a man in his early 40s named Frankie. He's going to need attention and to make sure it doesn't become infected.
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