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troubles aren’t my responsibility.”
“I’m asking for a short-term loan,” I tried.
“Maybe you should’ve chosen a career that actually pays,” he said—and hung up.
The next day, I met my father for coffee. He studied me like he was grading a paper. I told him the story, then the number: $5,000.
He leaned back, arms crossed. “Cassandra, this is why I’ve always continue reading …
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