“Isn’t that what you see when you look at me?” “No.” My heart hammers as I look at her, wishing we had more light so I could see her eyes. “I see you, Mia. Just you.” I want to say more, to tell her how bright she shines, to explain that her family is half of what leaves me in awe of her. I’m not blind to my privilege. I get how lucky I am, how much has been handed to me from the day I was born. But Mia doesn’t have any of that. Everything she is and has, she earned without help from her family. And yet she’s constantly doing everything for her dad and writing letters to her brother in prison.
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