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a long moment.
“No, Dad,” I said. “Being used did that.”
Then I turned to Janelle.
“If Mr. Whitaker comes back without an appointment, please call building security.”
My father stared at me as if I had become someone he didn’t recognize.
Maybe I had.
Maybe that was the point.
By October, the story had escaped the family.
Not the real story, of course.
The version continue reading …
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