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My mother loved the city, and it loved her. Until the Turn. Until leaving became our only hope of survival. She’s slipping away more each day. I can feel it. The tide threatens to take me with her, but I’d be lying if I said I’d rather be anywhere else—with Florence is where I belong.
Now uprooted and on the run, we have to choose: surrender to a new beginning and leave our delicate past behind, or salvage the remains and try to find our way back.
Either way, I just want to go home.
But if home really is where the heart is, what happens when you lose heart?
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