When I pulled the door open, it revealed Eden, and she was carrying a large brown box. An older woman with bright red, curly hair stood beside her. It had to be her mother. She carried a steaming hot savory pie of some sort, if my nostrils smelled true. “Wasn’t sure if you had a chance to get clothes or food yet?” Eden asked. I shook my head, overcome with gratitude. “Well, here. We look about the same size.” Eden held out the box and I took it from her, unable to find my voice. “And I made a meat and potato pie.” The woman held it out, and my father swooped in and took it from her, their
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