The Degrees of Goodbye
September came to Bloomington the way it always did, with the sycamores on Kirkwood turning their leaves inside out to show the silver undersides and the undergraduates pouring back into town in station wagons packed with dorm refrigerators and plastic storage bins. Samir Khalil had watched this ritual for eighteen years, and it had never stopped feeling like a gift. The first week of the fall...
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