The dusty attic.
The afternoon sunlight coming through the window.
Even the sound of the rain outside.
For a few seconds, I wasn’t sixty-eight years old anymore.
I was nineteen.
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The dusty attic.
The afternoon sunlight coming through the window.
Even the sound of the rain outside.
For a few seconds, I wasn’t sixty-eight years old anymore.
I was nineteen.
“You’re my girlfriend, not my wife.” Jenna knocked softly on the door, and I let her in, my heart still heavy from Marcus's words.…