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” she asked.
Aunt Elaine cried when I told her that.
On Thanksgiving day, we arrived with pie. Aunt Elaine opened the door before we knocked and hugged Abby first. Not dramatically. Just warmly.
“I saved you a seat,” she said.
Abby looked into the dining room. There was a place card. Her name. A chair. A full plate waiting.
Room.
Something in Abby’s face continue reading …
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