Trista

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“I’ll tell you about her when you forget, Grandpa. First thing every morning, first of all I’ll tell you about her.” Grandpa squeezes his arm. “Tell me that we danced, Noahnoah. Tell me that that’s what it’s like to fall in love, like you don’t have room for yourself in your own feet.” “I promise.”
And Every Morning the Way Home Gets Longer and Longer
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