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Kate is huddled on the couch in the living room.
“Ana, I’m sorry. It took me nine months to get this interview. It will take another
six to reschedule, and we’ll both have graduated by then. As the editor, I can’t blow this
off. Please,” Kate begs me in her rasping, sore throat voice. How does she do it? Even
ill she looks gamine and gorgeous, strawberry blonde hair in place and green eyes bright,
although now red-rimmed and runny. I ignore my pang of unwelcome sympathy.