Bridgette held me tight as she sobbed. Her mother had left a few hours before, a final birthday present for our daughter as she turned sixteen. I couldn't say I was sad to see her go, but I was sad for Bridgette. As I held her, I stroked her dark, brunette hair and made gentle shushing noises, rocking her as I had so many times as she grew up. After a long few minutes, she pulled away and
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