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Still, something about it stuck with her. The phrase: “For later.” It sounded like hope. Or desperation. Like someone saving something in case everything else fell apart. She didn’t need the money, not urgently. But she couldn’t spend it either. It felt wrong—like cash pulled from someone else’s unfinished sentence. That night, she wrapped it in a towel, placed it in a drawer, and tried to forget about it.
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