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High school reunions are like a test for personal success and I’ll slide right off the bell curve. I’m not famous, I didn’t turn into a knockout, my husband left me.
Whenever I reached for our shared popcorn, Finn reached in, too, and our hands brushed. When he put his arm around me, all I could think of was that if he got butter on my sister’s sweater, she’d know I’d borrowed it while she was away at college, and she’d kill me.
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