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“My daughter was injured,” I replied evenly, meeting his eyes, “and you laughed.”
He waved a dismissive hand. “Perspective matters. The families involved are very invested in this school, and escalation helps no one.”
He sighed, already bored, and that sigh told me everything I needed to know.
I left without another word, got into my truck, and called an old number that still lived in my phone under a name that didn’t invite questions.
“You still answer?” I asked when the line connected.
“For you,” came the reply, steady and unsurprised, “always.”
By the end of the week, the town noticed a shift it couldn’t quite explain.
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