“I was in the kitchen, wrists deep in biscuit dough, when I heard her at the top of the stairs. “The baby’s coming…. ‘ “
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“The brown grass crunched under her tan boot, crisp from the unusually scorching autumn sun. The family tree had bawled its green out just a month ago. The old leaves were strewn haphazardly on the ground - yellowed, worn and dead - like her love’s crumpled letter on the hardwood floor in her room….”
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