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beside my grandfather’s clock.
When my husband h:it me, my parents saw the b:ruise — said nothing, and walked away. He smirked from his chair, beer in hand: “Polite little family you’ve got.”
“You remember last month, when you made me sign those loan guarantees for your development company?”
He smiled again, but it was thinner now. “You signed willingly.”
“I signed copies.”
His smile died.
