Before I know it, I’m crying again. I think about Ethan climbing onto the bus at school, my mind already flitting to my endless to-do list at work, and my stomach aches. I see myself standing on the sidewalk, waving up at the dark smudges behind the bus’s tinted glass. I couldn’t even tell if he was waving back, or for that matter, if it was even Ethan. I just picked out one shadowy lump and waved and waved and waved, because the sooner that bus left, the sooner I could race off to work.
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