Amalia P. Sari

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He was genuinely happy to see me. The arduous years of middle school and high school we’d spent together had created an affectionate bond, and even though we hadn’t seen each other for a long time, we picked up again right away. We started joking. We talked easily, the words tumbling out, about our academic past, the teachers, the book I had published, his marriage, mine.
The Neapolitan Novels
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