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"What happened, Bradford, is that I already let you break my heart once." Then she stood up, adjusted her dress, and walked out of the room. I didn't call her name. I didn't stop her. I didn't follow her. I just sat there, in a dark room, feeling sorry for myself. Because as much as I tried to convince myself over the last year or so, that she didn't care-or that she wouldn't care-in just a few words she proved me completely wrong. She felt it too. She felt everything I did.
End of summer (Precollege)
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