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And as we swam, or played, or talked, a feeling would come. It was almost like fear, in the way it filled me, rising in my chest. It was almost like tears, in how swiftly it came. But it was neither of those, buoyant where they were heavy,
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is this too much to ask for???
Jacob biscuits and 2 other people liked this
Florence’s 2025 Year in Books
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