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the crossing list clipped to a board. The air smelled like cut grass and warm asphalt.
For a second, I was back in that hallway—the fear, the teacher’s hand, the way my body had forgotten how to be a body.
Then Emma spotted me.
Her whole face changed.
Not cautiously.
Not with evaluation.
With joy.
She broke into a run.
“Mom!”
She hit me at full speed, arms continue reading …
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