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music though no music had played.
My mother held a glass of iced tea.
“You built a beautiful life,” she said.
I looked at her carefully.
There was no despite everything.
No but.
No hidden request.
Just the sentence.
“Thank you,” I said.
She turned the glass in her hands.
“I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner.”
I leaned back in my chair.
“Me too.”
The old reflex would continue reading …
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