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Then Sophie leaned across the table.
“So, Maya,” she said, voice bright and dangerous. “Are you still doing your little doodles?”
I set my water glass down.
“I’m an illustrator.”
“Right,” she said. “That’s what I said.”
Ethan smiled into his menu.
Frank grunted. “Hard to call drawing animals in pajamas a career.”
“They’re children’s books,” I said.
“Exactly,continue reading …
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