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now. Sit down.”
I sat.
The paper was so fragile I was afraid it would fall apart in my hands. I unfolded it carefully, one crease at a time. My father’s handwriting slanted sharply to the right. It was young handwriting. Strong. Impatient.
Anna,
If this gets to you, then something went wrong, and I am sorry for that before anything else. I am sorrier than continue reading …
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