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put in the stitches. She cried when I took the key from the ring.
“This is his house,” she said. “He grew up here.”
“It’s where he’s always welcome,” I said. “That’s not the same thing as having a key.”
She knew the distinction. She had needed to say it out loud anyway, and I understood that was different from disputing it.
Weeks passed before Michael continue reading …
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