Isabel Fox

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LATER, AS WE were exiting into the jetway, the man waved good-bye and then turned back and said, “I hope it’s everything you want it to be.” “What?” I asked. “The rest of your life.” I thought it was a nice sentiment, but I couldn’t help but say, “Well, we won’t really know until the very end, will we?” “Touché,” he said.
Swear on This Life
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