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I locked my wife in the pantry under the stairs

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should not grow up under her tears.”

My legs went weak.

“Where is she?”

My mother did not answer.

I threw myself inside, dragging away boxes, old suitcases, and bags of winter clothes. Behind the cabinet I had never moved before, there were fresh scratches on the wall. The paint was peeled. The wood was swollen.

I pushed.

The panel gave way.

Behind it was continue reading …

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