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had closed.
“You still send them cards,” Michael said. It wasn’t a question.
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
I thought about that for a long time. “Because I can’t let him be right. I can’t let Tom’s version of me become the truth.”
Michael reached over and took my hand. “Your version is the only truth that matters.”
We married in a small chapel near base. I mailed an invitation continue reading …
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