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didn’t feel like swallowing glass.
Then, at the next stop, the doors opened.
People climbed on.
Someone sat beside me.
And I smelled his cologne.
Karl’s cologne.
My stomach dropped.
I turned my head.
It was him.
Not someone who looked like him.
Not grief playing tricks on me.
Karl.
Alive.
Pale.
Exhausted.
Real.
Before I could scream, he leaned close and whispered,continue reading …
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