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... painful, and distorted the world.
Sirens—not the distant kind, but the close, screaming sound that seemed to chase them. Paperwork rustling. Voices lowered out of respect, as if grief could hear and take offense at a normal tone. Mrs. Thompson’s hands shaking uncontrollably as she tried to keep her voice steady while answering questions.
Eloise sat on the high stool behind the front desk, her legs swinging uselessly, unable to reach the floor. She clutched the small heart penda ...
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