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“Sometimes. Not all the time. Not desperately. But yes. Everyone does.”
She picked up a towel.
“I feel lonely married. Or I did.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Me too.”
We washed dishes in silence for a while.
Then she said, “You know what I hated most about you?”
I glanced at her.
“This should be charming.”
She smiled faintly.
“You could leave.”
I turned off the faucet.
She continue reading …
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