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to dance with my mom in Central Park,” she said. “You know that better than anyone.” —”I don’t know how to swing dance.” —”We don’t know how to live without him either, and look, here we are.” I accepted her hand. We danced clumsily between the tables. Claire cried and laughed. Richard pulled Mrs. Helen up to dance. Oliver, stiff as a broomstick, ended continue reading …
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