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YOU AND I DISTANT. Lately we argue; I suppose we’re arguing about him. He just sits in the corner. It isn’t that we’re bored, the three of us. Rather the math of our evil is constrained by the math of our bodies. I find myself missing my little daughter, and America. I return to Megan sooner and sooner each night; she sinks drowsily deeper and deeper into her sadness. She no longer looks at me when I get home. I pull her to me and lie that there will always be an England.

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