EIGHTEEN

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"Is this all some really twisted dream?" I ask.

"No," says Dr. Letterman, "it's not."

"So my name is really Lola?"

She huffs out a breath, smiling, teeth showing and illuminating off of the fluorescent white lights.

"Yes," she whispers out.

Instead of letting tears gather along my waterline, I simply let my eyes smile at her.

It feels so much better than crying.

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