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mailbox before…” She looked at the floor. “Before Simone took it away. But I read it first, and I remembered the smell.”
I knelt down to her level.
“Yes, baby. I wrote those letters. All 96 of them. Every single week. I wrote to you every week for three years.”
“We never got them.”
“I know. But I’m here now, and I’m never leaving again.”
Isabelle stood continue reading …
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