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“Don’t kiss strange men in Penn Station.”
“Didn’t they teach you how to go about research in that school of yours?” “No. But I can recite ‘The Battle Hymn of the Republic’ while making martinis.” “I weep for the future.” “There’s where the martinis come in.”
She knew what it was to wait for someone who would never come home. She knew that grief, like a scar, faded but never really went away.
