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death is the ultimate lubricant for truth.
What you were trying to tell us is that, like ghosts, each of us would sacrifice anything—money, sanity, security—for a chance to go back in time, to make sense of our choices, of the unholy mess that is ourselves.
was engaged to be married, a person I’d swindled into a lifetime of mutual tolerance.
Men are the sitting ducks of the internet because none of their names have changed.
How badly can you be hurt by someone whose handwriting you’ve never seen?
