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Nora, still fragile but lucid, recalled fragments: the bus driver wasn’t their usual one. There was a man waiting at a fork in the road. “He said the lake wasn’t ready for us yet. That we’d have to wait.” She remembered waking in a barn with covered windows and clocks that always said Tuesday, even when it wasn’t. They were given new names. “Some of the others forgot about home,” she said. “But I didn’t. I never did.”
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