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say stuff like that. You do.
I’m sorry for whatever Mom did. I know she’s not always nice.
Love, Brianna.
I read the letter three times.
Then I fold it carefully and press it flat against my chest and I cry.
Not the helpless, wrung out crying I’ve done so many times this month, but the kind that cleans, the kind that comes when someone sees you clearly,continue reading …
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