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with trembling lips. “Samantha, sweetheart.”
I flinched at that word. She had not called me sweetheart since before the porch.
“I know we hurt you,” she said, her voice calibrated to carry just far enough for the room to hear its softness. “But we were young. We were overwhelmed. Your grandmother never understood how hard things were for us.”
For us.
There continue reading …
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