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I don’t remember going out.Writers Resources
For two decades, I had called it a sacrifice.
But standing in that quiet apartment, I finally understood that it wasn’t. It was the life I had chosen. And at some point along the way, I had chosen back.
I sat on the couch, picked up my phone and moved to a number I hadn’t dialed in 12 years.
Diana.
I pressed the call before I could convince myself