Nichole Stratton

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It was as though the rest of them weren’t grown-ups anymore. It was as though they’d all been playing a game, a game where they’d pretended to be in control of their lives, a game where they’d pretended they had interesting professions and healthy bank accounts and families and backyard barbecues, but now a curtain had been pulled briskly aside and the grown-ups had marched in because rules had been broken.
Truly Madly Guilty
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