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Sometimes people in Copper Run drop hints about my mother, and it’s always jarring. But they’re like precious shimmers. I want to grab each one.
For this man—a friend—I would have never met in any lifetime except this one, with my divorce and without my mom.
It’s raining outside, beating down on the sidewalk and splattering against the glass windows. But in the center of the lobby is the only woman who could make a rainy day seem not half bad.
