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pictures. Denise cried. Claire made a toast and called Noah “the happiest little hurricane in Connecticut.”
Near sunset, after everyone left, Ava and I stood in the kitchen surrounded by plates, wrapping paper, and deflated balloons.
She looked tired.
But it was a normal tired.
A full-day tired.
Not fear.
Not defeat.
She leaned against the counter and said,continue reading …
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