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I wake up in my new apartment to unfamiliar sensations. Instead of my children emerging from their rooms, slamming open my bedroom door and breathing their hot breath in my face, I hear the footsteps and sneezes of a family above me. I don't see a black-and-white photo of my daughter's infant toes in a silver frame on the bedside table, or stacks of books and mounting piles of laundry in the corner, but bare walls and a bare floor.

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