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When she finished, the woman helped me wash her bowl. —”My name is Tessa,” she said. “I live in the building across the street. Today… today I didn’t want to go back home.” I didn’t ask why. Not yet. I gave her a Tupperware with more soup. —”For tomorrow.” She took it and stared at the lid. —”Do I have to return it?” I thought of Mr. Arthur. Of his continue reading …
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