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Too expensive.
Not necessary.
My chest tightened.
Then I opened the notebook. It wasn’t a journal.
There were no feelings, no complaints, just a series of lists that broke my heart.
He had detailed his monthly costs like a budget.
Halfway down one page, wedged between rent estimates and grocery numbers, was a single sentence written smaller than the rest.
If they’re happier without me, I’ll understand.
Tears sprang to my eyes.
It detailed bus routes and had notes that seemed to be about local job postings. There were addresses of youth shelters.
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