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The judge leaned forward slightly.
“What’s that?” he asked.
“It’s something my dad would hate.
Look.”
She unfolded the top paper and held it up.
“It’s a receipt. From the sneakers he bought me. And this one is the phone.
And this one is the tablet. And the backpack. And the concert tickets.”
She set them on the table in front of her, one by one.
“We see a lot of receipts in family court,” the judge said carefully.
“Can you tell me why you brought these?”
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