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This time, there are no tears. This time, there is only emptiness and I feel it set in the straight line of my mouth. I am not strong enough for this. I want an earthquake, a hurricane, anything – even a devil, the one with the cloven hoof – Mrs. Leed’s unfortunate 13th child – to rush out and stomp on me, break me into little pieces and hurl me to the stars, let me go back with those people I love. Please.
