I came home one afternoon from school to find my mom prancing around like she’d just won the lottery. “What’s with you, Mom?” I said dropping my bag beside the couch. She practically pulled me into the kitchen by my arm and waved her hand a dramatic manner at a vase of twelve red roses sitting on the counter. “Great,” I said, trying to not let her know how much I didn’t care. “Who’s your secret admirer?” Mom practically clapped her hands with glee like a child. “Here,” she said, handing me the card, “read it.” Taking it from her, I...
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