[A small nod, a small smile. To fathers. Ginia can barely remember what her father looks like now, but she can remember his smile, his laugh, the sound of his voice. Maybe those are the important things. Better than the sight of him doubled over in pain, tied to a chair, bruised and bloody.]
To fathers, mothers, parents, guardians, and all those people that shape our lives.
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To fathers, mothers, parents, guardians, and all those people that shape our lives.
[For better or worse.]