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« Eleanor. »
I kept my hands busy.
I turned, and there stood Garrett, 53 years older but with the same crooked smile he’d had after kissing me behind the bleachers in 1972. He’d promised, « Eleanor, someday I’ll buy you a diamond ring. »
***
« You still wear your hair the same, » Garrett whispered at the bake sale.
« And you still talk too smoothly, » I told him.
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