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stripes. The apartment smelled like fresh paint and cardboard. I made coffee slowly, not because I had time, but because no one could interrupt me.
When my phone buzzed, I didn’t flinch.
The screen lit up with my mother’s name. Then again. And again. A cluster of missed calls stacked like a tower.
Texts followed.
OPEN THE DOOR NOW.
WHAT DID YOU DO TO THE continue reading …
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