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night, the email I’d sent woke up ghosts.
My phone rang after nine. A number I didn’t recognize.
I almost ignored it, but something in me shifted. Some instinct I’d learned from years of surviving unpredictable people.
I answered.
A woman’s voice, shaking.
“Lakeland?” she whispered. “It’s Natalie.”
Natalie.
My cousin. Aunt Stephanie’s daughter. We’d been continue reading …
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