The Butterfly Effect . . . And A Good Book
My phone dings before 8 a.m. I think it must be Gerry or Laurinda—both of whom are currently in Kamloops, separately and for different reasons—but no. It’s Makiya, texting me from her bedroom downstairs. I think I’m sick. With her under the weather and no need for an early-morning commute to Caronport to drop her
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