“Here it is,” she’d tell him. “Everything that’s in my heart, for you and me to see.” She’d ask him to stand in her kitchen when Baker came over to hang out. She’d have him witness Baker’s laughter, her smile, her kind heart, her vulnerability. Baker wouldn’t see him, but he would see everything: the goodness of her heart and the light in her eyes. And afterwards, Hannah would ask him, “How could I not love her?” She’d ask him about the other people. The ones like her, the ones unlike her. “There are so many people who make me hate myself,” she’d say. “Who make me feel ashamed. They claim to
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