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both hands, as if it were a campfire. She ate slowly at first. Then ravenously. Then crying. No one looked at her weirdly. That was an unwritten rule of The Decent Soup House: when someone cries over their soup, everyone pretends to be very busy with the tortillas. When she finished, the woman helped me wash her bowl. ââMy name is Tessa,â she said.continue reading âŚ
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