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Five minutes.
I could survive five more minutes.
Chloe waved me over from her velvet chair.
“Elara,” she said, smiling with uncertainty. “I’m glad you came.”
“I’m glad you’re happy,” I said.
Her hand found mine. “Mom said this might be hard for you.”
“I’m fine.”
Chloe’s eyes softened with the same pity I had seen on every face since my diagnosis.
“I know. continue reading …
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