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Brittle Nails and a Disputed Greenhouse in Autumn

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my thumb finding the deep split in my index nail again. “Did I cancel them and just forget?”

“No, Mom,” Sarah said, her fingers twisting her silver necklace until her skin turned pink. “We need to find out where those order slips went before your father’s brother convinces Donald I am unfit.”

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A moth fluttered against the glass of the continue reading …

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