Four Hundred Forty

I'm running late as usual and fly through the kitchen like a mad woman.

"Estella! Love! We gotta get going or else we will be late to the ceremony".

"Coming mama"!

Teresa gives me a weak smile and a grimace.

"Are you okay"? I ask.

"I've got the worst migraine, but I will be fine baby girl".

"You sho...

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