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The Slap That Ended Everything

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pink where Olivia’s hand had landed. My mascara was fine. My mouth looked hard.

A woman I knew slightly, Beverly Hunt from the museum board, came in, saw me, and stopped.

“Oh, Vicky.”

Not Are you all right? Not What happened?

Just my name.

She found a paper towel, ran it under cold water, and handed it to me without a speech. That’s what decent women do.continue reading …

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