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as I cooked Marcu
d hoped would bring some semblance of peace
s never c
Reed, beaming beside my husband, champagne in hand,
dismissive, cold: "You've let yourself g
ing, a sudden nosebleed staining the anniversary tablec
, a ghost of my former self, co
pped away, humiliated, while he
ort, my loyal dog Gus, brutally run down after
laced by the harsh hospital lights
awake to his ruin, w
r pill: his decade of calculated cr
story was far from over-just

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