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  • “Guess what? My friend didn’t sell the car to the boy from Spain after all,” I said non-challantly as we drove off from the school's parking lot. She turned to look at me at the speed of light, her cheeks turning rosy red in the process. Emotionally exposed, she exclaimed, “Mom, please don’t joke around. Are you really serious?” “It’s true.” I said smiling. She screamed and cried and screamed again. “Oh My God! Oh My God! I have to let Emilee know!”. And so, she did; in less than a nano-second, my sixteen-year old was texting her best friend about being the proud owner of a Honda 2002. Giving her wings to fly, I was left with an array of mixed-feelings that oscillated between contentment and dread.
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