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worn away completely.
E.C.
A.C.
The knife marks were shallow now. Time had done what time always does. Softened edges. Taken sharpness. Left shape.
My father crouched beside them longer than I expected.
“I used to think I knew which one of you would stay,” he said.
I leaned against the post.
“You were wrong about a few things.”
He gave the smallest of smiles.continue reading …
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