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... constantly, my fingers trailing along my legs and down over my bare feet. No trace of a crack. Not even a hint that I had once shattered into a thousand shards.
My girls would be happy. They had watched over me—and my holes—faithfully, to the point of actually refusing to leave my side or to rest at all. I had to yell, order, and threaten to make them go and do something.
"My family is the best," I nodded as if it was official, a fact that could never be changed or discussed.
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