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grounded. She wasn’t wearing designer clothes or expensive jewelry. Just jeans and a plain sweater.
“Can I come in?” she asked.
I hesitated, then stepped aside.
We sat in my small living room, the silence awkward and heavy.
“I’m sorry,” she said finally. “For taking your car. For everything. You were right. About all of it.”
I didn’t respond.
“I’ve been continue reading …
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