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table.
It was when my mother set down her wine glass, the rim leaving a perfect red stain on the lace doily, that everything tilted.
“Oh, that reminds me,” she said, her voice light and breezy. “I booked the tickets for the trip today.”
My heart gave a small, involuntary jump. We had been discussing a family vacation for months. Two weeks in Italy. A continue reading …
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