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a leash.”
My father’s face crumpled.
Still, he said nothing.
I looked at him.
The disappointment I felt was old, but this time it did not own me.
“You called me a broken vase,” I said, turning back to my mother. “But look at me now.”
Leo rested his head on my shoulder.
I felt the weight of him. The living proof beside me and around me. Not proof of my worth,continue reading …
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