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But it was mine.
Or at least, I thought it was.
I had no idea that before the day was over, my own mother would stand in my driveway and tell me I had exactly forty-eight hours to leave.
And even less idea that my younger sister was already planning where she would put her furniture.
Looking back now, I should have seen it coming.
Because in our family, there had always been two sets of rules.
One for Megan.
And one for me.
Megan was the baby.
The favorite.
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