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parents’ electronic gate.
A simple wooden one, slightly crooked.
And Ryan had fixed it because he wanted our home to feel secure.
Not like a prison.
My grandfather visited once a week.
He never overstayed.
He never criticized.
He’d sit with Ethan, let Ethan grab his finger, let Ethan drool on his expensive suit sleeves without complaint.
One day, my grandfather continue reading …
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