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my wrist from the seat behind me.
“Mia,” he said, low and urgent. “Don’t drag our history into this. Don’t do this to your mother.”
“You wrote this history,” I said, and pulled free. “I’m telling the truth about it.”
On the stage, under the hot lights, I hugged my mother and she trembled against me and whispered please be gentle.
“You’ve been gentle for continue reading …
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