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an old image rose up in me, uninvited. My mother’s face when she cried. My father’s voice when he said, “We’ll lose the house.” Brandon’s smug grin when he walked into Christmas with no gift and somehow got praised anyway.
Then I heard my father again.
She’d pay for the air we breathe if I asked her to.
My hand didn’t shake.
I clicked Cancel.
A small confirmation continue reading …
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