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No slap.
No crying.
I walked to the lounge chair.
Vanessa whispered, “Please.”
Her voice was small.
Panicked.
“We can explain.”
I looked at the wet footprints from my kitchen.
“You already did.”
I picked up Caleb’s shirt.
Then his belt.
Then his pants.
Then his keys.
Then Vanessa’s sundress.
Then her sandals.
Then her phone.
I folded each piece over my arm slowly.continue reading …
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