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or because some part of him wanted me to see the tuxedo and the borrowed glow of that night, I’ll never know. Music thudded behind him. For one absurd second I could see Vanessa over his shoulder, a champagne flute in her hand, her head tipped back laughing at something.
Can this wait? he said.
I held the letter up to the camera, though I knew he couldn’t continue reading …
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