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Miles was still seething from a fight with his father two days earlier. He could still feel the welts from the proper beating he’d endured.
for shopping.” “Yes, dear.” Cora clasped her fingers together and rested them on her lap. She had her own bruises hidden under that velvet
She looked up at the night sky, watching the fast-moving clouds glide by. “It’s like making a wish on a star that was never there.”
She continues on and comes across a charming pub called the Smythun. The pubs in England all have such an inviting look, mouthwatering food specials scrawled on chalkboards, polished windows with nothing but happiness and pints inside.
plaque reads: FOUNDED IN 1524. How is that even possible? They
waiting. He’d love Shantaram, but it might be too daunting of a tome for his first book in a while. Same with Kane and Abel, another that she’d recommended dozens of times.
Chris Whitaker, We Begin at the End, about a guy who returns home after decades in prison. It’s fast moving, yet thought provoking.
“Yes,” he said. “The one where the whole world is against us. Except the whole world isn’t enough to keep me from loving you.” She placed a hand on his arm. “You know exactly what to say, don’t you?”
That’s the way her life has worked since she originally found the photo, all these coincidences that are not coincidences.
You’re trying to fix all these things to reach a point of healing, but the healing is already taking place by you being on the journey.”
“I am not responsible for what you did. None of us are. Your guilt is yours alone to bear, just as my mother’s is hers and no one else’s. I want to be set free from it. I want everyone in our family to be set free from what both of you did. The truth is finally out. Though we are bound by blood, I am no longer a part of your crime. No one else is.”