I’m Angelica, 25, the youngest of five.
By the time I was old enough to remember anything clearly, it was just Grandpa and us. He stepped in after our parents died in a car accident, just him, five kids, and a small house.
It was just Grandpa and us.
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Every morning at 5 AM, like clockwork, I’d hear Grandpa in the kitchen. Then the hum of the coffeemaker and the quiet snap of that same old metal lunch box closing.
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