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It was written in purple crayon on a page torn from my spelling notebook.
« If we are both still single when we are 30, » I read aloud, « we promise to marry each other. »
Noah frowned at the paper.
« You spelled promise wrong. »
« I did not. »
« You wrote promiss. »
« You know what I mean. »
He sighed like an exhausted lawyer, then signed his name beneath mine.
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