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from the side gate.
Not from the patio path.
From my kitchen.
The grocery bag sagged in my hand.
One avocado slipped out and rolled across the outdoor counter when I set the bag down.
It tapped against the stainless-steel sink.
A tiny sound.
A final sound.
Caleb cleared his throat.
“Don’t make a scene.”
That was the moment something inside me went cold.
Not broken.continue reading …
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