Anita Dahaba

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“Pete!” I’d yell through his door and over the music. “Can I get you anything?” and “Do you want to talk?” and “The music is really loud!” But what I meant was: How can I help? “No,” and “No,” and “I know,” he’d yell back. But what he meant was: Leave me the hell alone.
The Wrong Way to Save Your Life: Essays
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