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They say time heals all wounds. I beg to differ. It has been ninety-five years and my heart still aches. It’s been ninety-five years and I must say that I am living proof that the old proverb is false. Time never saved me. Quite the opposite, actually; time was what hurt me in the first place.
“The last compartment,” she told Minerva, and the fifth year didn’t know who would be so mean to such an innocent little girl. May looked up to Minerva and added, “On the left, Miss.”
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