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rachelselene 's review for:
The Book of Unknown Americans
by Cristina Henríquez
The weight of finality — so heavy that it felt like a physical thing — hung in the air between us. I didn’t want to accept that in order to move forward, I had to walk through it. It was so much easier just to believe there was another path I could take around it and that at the end of that path would be the destination I wanted. It was easier to want to end up at a lie, instead of at the truth.