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Behind the Venue, My Husband Handed Me a Scrapbook Pulled From the Dumpster

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someone with a real job, as though teaching kindergarten were a charming eccentricity rather than an actual profession.

I scanned the gift table repeatedly. Everything on it was wrapped in metallic paper or packed into glossy bags with tissue paper spilling out. Emma’s work, the hand-decorated packages covered in the little stars and flowers she had continue reading …

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