“You have no idea how much your texts meant to me during that time, Ange.” He grips my hand tighter. “I wanted to text you back, so badly, but I was only allowed my phone for one hour a week, and my counselor wanted me to cut all contact with the outside world to aid my recovery. I didn’t even speak to Jim, not until the end, when he came in for a few sessions.” He presses his forehead to mine. “They had this really nice sunroom at the rear of the facility, and every Sunday when I was given my cell, I’d curl up on one of the couches and read through all your texts. To know you hadn’t forgotten
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