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“Of course, when Iris was gone, Mom barely seemed to care until the final hours before evacuation. Maybe it'll be the same for me: Denise will be fine. Oh, she'll be back. It makes me want to laugh when I realize how wrong I am. Of course it won't be the same. I'm not Iris. It'll be: Denise? Denise is gone? Oh, god, no. How long for? She can't be out there by herself. She might've gotten lost. She's—then, confidentially, with that look of hers—she's autistic. What if she...” — Corinne Duyvis
Of course, when Iris was gone, Mom barely seemed to care until the final hours before evacuation.
Maybe it'll be the same for me: Denise will be fine. Oh, she'll be back.
It makes me want to laugh when I realize how wrong I am. Of course it won't be the same. I'm not Iris. It'll be: Denise? Denise is gone? Oh, god, no. How long for? She can't be out there by herself. She might've gotten lost. She's—then, confidentially, with that look of hers—she's autistic. What if she...