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Slowly, Daisy picked up the envelope, her hand visibly shaking, and with her forefinger, she sliced through the top. The sight of Hugh’s handwriting even on the envelope was like a warm, comforting hug and she drew out a piece of manila paper, the very kind that Hugh had kept in a small pile on his desk. His neat and precise writing filled the page. She brought the letter up to her nose, hoping to smell him but there was nothing.
James excused himself, told her he would be by the oak tree when she wanted him. He took his mug and left her alone.
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