“I’m sorry,” Miller says. “It’s just, it hurt when you touched it.” “Well it’s not like I meant to hurt you!” she weeps. “No, I know. I’m sorry.” “I didn’t mean to push you.” “I know you didn’t. It’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay,” Miller says, comforting her mother through a mouthful of blood that she spits into the red snow. “I didn’t mean to be so rude.” “Don’t worry about it,” Sylvie says, extending a hand. "I forgive you."
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