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“My old man once told me, lie down with dogs, get up with fleas.
The landscape of her body carried the signs of war. Damaged. Weakened. Wasted.
They were most often the ones to bend, sometimes until they broke. Or got broken. She believed with all her heart in that moment, she and Cornelia would get along just fine.
All he’d ever wanted was for her to see him as he was, imperfect, but a man who loved her no matter what.
