Garrett began counseling and Sunday phone calls that started stiff and grew warmer by autumn. I did not hurry forgiveness. I kept the manila folder in a kitchen drawer, not as a weapon but as a reminder.
On a quiet evening, I carried my tea to the porch and listened to the tide, my old Honda parked in the drive. This house was the first thing that ever truly belonged to me, and at last it felt that way.
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