I had turned myself inside out working on the house, and had come to love it; at least, I supposed I loved it. Maybe it wasn't love so much as a fear of losing everything I'd accomplished. I was afraid to let go.
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I had turned myself inside out working on the house, and had come to love it; at least, I supposed I loved it. Maybe it wasn't love so much as a fear of losing everything I'd accomplished. I was afraid to let go.
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