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... pressing down on my chest
I hadn’t meant to sleep. I’d lain on top of the covers sometime before dawn, shoes still on, shirt unbuttoned. When I opened his eyes, light angled across the ceiling from the eastern windows, as though the morning itself had run out of colour.
A soft door sounded on my door before it slowly opened.
My father leaned in and called quietly. "Rhett?"
"Yeah." My throat was raw and scratchy. "Come in."
My father slipped inside with two ...
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