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Ninety seconds, usually.
“You doing okay?”
“Yes.”
“Work good?”
“Yes.”
“Car running?”
“Yes.”
Then silence until one of us made an excuse.
I thought that silence meant indifference.
I thought he did not know how badly I had been hurt.
The night he died, my phone lit up my studio apartment at two in the morning. I had fallen asleep on the couch with a spreadsheet continue reading …
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