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a closed pharmacy and put the car in park.
Then I turned to my son.
“Caleb, look at me.”
He did.
The streetlight outside cut across his face, half shadow, half gold.
“I am sorry,” I said.
His mouth tightened.
“Mom—”
“No. Please let me say this.” My voice shook. “I am sorry I kept asking you to try with people who kept hurting you. I am sorry I called it family continue reading …
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