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tiny, crumbling house at the end of the street. I watched her porch come into view, sagging beneath the weight of rumor more than wood.
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tiny, crumbling house at the end of the street. I watched her porch come into view, sagging beneath the weight of rumor more than wood.
Instead, Martha opened her front door and turned back. “Would you like tea, Claire?”
I gripped my keys. “Inside?”
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