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It’s as though all the life that was lived in that house—all the laughter, the tears, the music, the heartbreak, the love—is still being lived over and over, down the staircase, in the walls.
One day I asked for a chocolate cake, and one of the cooks said, “No, your father’s sick, he can’t have that,” and I said, “I’m telling my daddy you’re fired.” I was four.

