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counter was buried in envelopes with screaming red print: FINAL NOTICE, URGENT, IMMEDIATE ACTION REQUIRED. American Express Platinum. Capital One.
Mia was there, perched on a barstool in leggings and an oversized sweatshirt that cost more than my winter coat. She’d slapped the envelopes into a drawer, but not fast enough.
For six months, Mia had been continue reading …
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