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Of all the things her body could have asked first.
“No,” I said, though I did not know. “And it does not matter.”
“I didn’t hit Brooklyn.”
“I know.”
“I just wanted my bike.”
“I know, baby.”
A tear slid down her temple into her hair.
“Am I bad?”
That broke me.
Not loudly. I did not sob. I could not afford to. But something inside my chest tore cleanly.
“No,” continue reading …
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