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Chapter 9: Bile in her throat
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Chapter 11: A concerned stranger
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... e where I usually took my meals, my hands wrapped around a warm bowl of porridge I hadn’t touched. I kept stirring the surface out of habit, watching the pale grains fold into themselves, over and over.
I didn’t have the appetite.
I shifted in my seat, forcing myself to look at the food. A bitter taste still lingered at the back of my throat, no matter how many times I rinsed my mouth.
I hadn’t slept. Not really. I must’ve drifted in and out, but each time I closed my eye ...
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