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... me.
"What about me?" I laughed nervously. "I didn’t do anything wrong. Did I?"
He shook his head. "I didn’t say you did something wrong. I’m asking... what’s your story, June?"
Oh.
Real stuff.
My stomach twisted.
Talking about myself always felt like picking at a wound.
"If you don’t want to...." he started.
"No," I said quickly. "It’s not that."
I stared at the blanket for a while.
"It’s not just a....pretty story." ...
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