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I lay down on the high hospital bed, my heart thumping against my ribs in a slow, heavy march.
Taylor came back into my room at two in the afternoon. He had not shaved, and his white shirt was wrinkled at the elbows.
He sat in the vinyl chair by the window, his eyes fixed on his hands.
“You should be resting,” he said.
“I heard him, Taylor,” I said. “In continue reading …
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