And then Flora sees something familiar: the worn copy of The Yellow Wallpaper. The same book she saw on the nightstand when her mother was here. And underneath the book is the small baby hat made of soft pink yarn. She has seen these items before, touched them with her own hands in her very own house, but how is that possible if they were in these boxes with her father hundreds of miles away? Flora knows she is close to something, on the edge of discovery, but not yet seeing the whole picture. It is jumbled within the recesses of her own mind. Like her entire life is a dream that she has just
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