“Now I understand why you are the way you are around Mort.”
“The way I am around Mort?”
“Like he cut out your heart and holds it ransom, and you want it back.”
I sink my hand through my hair. “No, Tiff, that’s not right.”
“It’s not?”
I drop my hand and face her. My voice rumbles. “I don’t want mine back. I want his.”
— Sep 07, 2019 12:58AM
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