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they had a playbook.
My hands shake. I set the phone face down on the bedspread and press my palms against my thighs until the trembling stops.
I don’t cry. Something inside me has shifted. Not broken, but rearranged. Like a bone that’s been set wrong for years and just snapped into place.
I pick up the phone and walk downstairs.
Marcus is at the counter continue reading …
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