The Girl Who Hid It in Her Shoe
“You don’t know?”
“No.
I’ve never met him.
I’m not going to guess at something that important.”
And Charlotte Sinclair nodded once — a short, businesslike nod — and I understood, in that second, that I had passed a test she had been running on me since 4:11, and that the test was not whether I was kind.
It was whether I would say a thing I could not be sure of, in order to make her feel better.
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