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its own confession. “I really thought Mom had called you. Nathan, I’m sorry. This is… awkward.”
Awkward. Like my absence was a small social stain, not a statement.
“Do you want to come over now?” she asked. “We have leftovers.”
The word hit me like a slap. I imagined walking into my parents’ house, everyone already full and sleepy, my casserole like a continue reading …
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