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The living room glowed with string lights. On the wall, across the mantel, along the shelves, I had placed enlarged photos from prom night that Uncle Ray had kept in old boxes all these years.
There we were in 2006, standing by the punch bowl, laughing on the dance floor, smiling outside her front door, me looking stunned to be happy and Charlotte looking like kindness had always come as naturally as breathing.
“You deserve to see what you did.”
She lifted a shaking hand to her mouth. “Oh my God! What is this?”
I looked at her and said the name I had never stopped thinking of.
“Lottie.”
Her head snapped towards me.
“T-Tyler?”
She sat down hard on the couch and started crying. I crossed the room and crouched in front of her, hands light on her shoulders.
“Hey. It’s okay.”
“Oh my God! What is this?”
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