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Minton, all fleur-de-lys and fiddly curlicues—they go for thousands on eBay.
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The fears of a few seconds ago seem unfounded, as nightmares always do when the light comes back on.
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When anxiety wins, the mad part of me peels away from the rational one.
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Grief is like a splinter deep into every fingertip; to touch anything is torture.
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When you only have one vanity, I think you’re allowed to indulge it.
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I know from my own counselling that anger always has hurt at its core.