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“He’s dumb,” she says like she does every time we talk about him. “He doesn’t even read books.”
My motto too.
I’m a freakishly obsessive reader. I can easily plow through two books a day if I have the time. All summer long I wait for people’s garage sales to finish so I can swoop in on all the unsold boxes of books they give away at the end.
I’ve never understood people who aren’t friends with their siblings as adults. How do you survive childhood together and not grow an intimacy unlike any other?
