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I promise I’m not bad.
Love, Randy.
Beneath it was a folded drawing with a purple crayon mark showing a paint spill.
For a moment, I couldn’t understand what I was seeing.
Then I did.
“What is this?” I asked.
Sarah looked down at her shoes.
“Sarah, honey?”
“Ms. Bell made him write it.”
“When?”
She looked at the backpack. “Right before.”
My skin went cold. “Right continue reading …
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