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hug. “I made too much as always.”
Over dinner, we talked about everything except my parents.
Her garden.
My work.
The book club she’d recently joined.
Normal things.
Peaceful things.
It wasn’t until dessert that she brought it up.
“You know, Renee… I was your age when something similar happened to me.”
I looked up from my pie.
“You mentioned that once. With continue reading …
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