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... ned twenty-one.

Charlotte slumped in the stiff corner chair of the doctor's office, watching through half-lidded eyes as her mother bobbed her head like a mechanical doll. The doctor's voice washed over her in waves of meaningless syllables—sertraline, fluoxetine, bupropion–each one just another pill that was supposed to fix whatever had broken inside her.

Now that she is twenty-three, her mother and her doctor are starting to wonder if she will ever make any significant improvem ...

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