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Claire opened her eyes wide. —”Helen?” —”Yes.” —”Like Oliver’s mom.” —”That’s why I didn’t say it. The soup was going to get confusing.” Claire burst out laughing. But then she looked at me tenderly. —”Helen,” she repeated. “How pretty.” It sounded weird in her mouth. My name had been stored away for so long that it felt foreign. For months I was continue reading …
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