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shouted, barely remembering to close the door behind me. “I’m going to medical school.”
She wiped flour from her hands and hugged me, her apron dusting my shirt with powder.
“I knew you would,” she said, eyes shining. “You’re my pride, Calvin.”
The joy did not last long.
In my second year of medical school, I noticed she was slowing down. She coughed more.continue reading …
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