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... memories began flooding back to her.

"You're awake," a gravelly voice sighed from the corner, startling her. The voice seemed familiar—it was so deep—but she couldn't place it. She groaned softly in response, squinting against the light. "I'll find Greta," he spoke again, and then she heard the soft click of a door closing.

August gingerly pushed herself up to notice a quilt covering her. It had delicate hexagon shapes in mismatched fabrics. It was beautiful—the care that had gon ...

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