ELENA: (quiet) You went through my room.

ELENA: (folding napkin into a surgical square) There's nothing to talk about. She left. He stayed. End of story.

Elena freezes. Mateo stops laughing.

SIMONE: But it's not the end, is it? Because if it were—you wouldn't have kept her letters in your nightstand for fifteen years.

Yes, I Want To Work With A Specific Teacher and Mentor Who Knows The Exact Problems My Child is Facing!

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