AURORA I was back in Sacramento. But it wasn't the Sacramento I remembered. It was a different version, a version where everything went right.The sun was warm on my skin, the sky a perfect blue without a single cloud in sight. I was standing in a garden, roses blooming all around me, their petals soft and red and fragrant, climbing up a trellis that had been painted white. The air smelled like honeysuckle and fresh-cut grass, the kind of smell that made you want to close your eyes and breathe it all in. A white fence stretched along the edge of the yard, and beyond it, a house stood tall and welcoming, its windows catching the afternoon light. The same house from my dreams. The same house from my fantasies. The same house I'd imagined a thousand times before, the one with the wraparound porch and the big oak tree in the front yard.I looked down and saw my daughter in my arms. She was older now, maybe two years old, her dark hair curling around her face, her eyes bright and curious.
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