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shiny black hair falling in waves. She looked like a porcelain doll.
“Mrs. Miller,” she said, hugging me. “Michael has told me so much about you. I admire you so much. Raising such a wonderful son all by yourself. You’re my hero.”
How could I not fall into her trap? I, who had spent twenty years without a sincere hug, suddenly had this pretty girl calling continue reading …
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