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confident than usual.
One time, while my grandfather stepped outside, my father leaned toward me.
“You know this won’t last,” he said quietly.
I looked at him.
“What won’t?”
“This,” he said, gesturing vaguely. “All of it. He’s just being sentimental.”
I didn’t answer.
Because I had already seen the documents.
And I knew there was nothing sentimental about continue reading …
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