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time. I just hadn’t recognized it because it didn’t look like the one I’d been trying to get back into.
Mrs. Park closed the album.
You belong in this book, Harper. You have for a long time.
She left at three. Hugged me at the door — short, firm, the kind that says enough now, you’ll be fine — and told me to return the pot next Thursday.
Not a suggestion.continue reading …
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