She wished that the drive would never end, but it was only three miles after all. We have lived under the same roof, but our ways seem to have lain wide apart. Perhaps Gerald was not as clothheaded as he had thought. You know—I wish I could roll my little body up small and squeeze it into your hand and grip your fingers upon it. ’ ‘The tables, they are turned, I think,’ she returned. “Okay, Mom.
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