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Eleni

When Dante parks the car in the driveway of the house that changed my mind, which I now haven’t seen in over a month, something in my ribcage snaps.

“I’m tired,” I say.

He nods.

“I’m tired of being tired.” I put my hand on his cheek.

With a sigh, Dante nods again.

“I’m twenty-four.” My voice s...