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I didn’t know they were as good at pretending to us as we were to the rest of the world. I looked away when I could, afraid to acknowledge this side of him, to replace my distant respect for him with fear. I turned my head to look out the window, my breath lightly condensing on the glass, and watched as a family of four, wearing nearly matching black parkas, bounced down the street, bumping into one another in light jubilation. If they looked over at our car, perhaps all they’d see was a family waiting to warm up a car while a dad told an emphatic story—t
Respect!
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