I DIED. For forty-two seconds I died. They were operating on me—why isn’t important anymore—and it was a simple surgery, everyone said so. My dad didn’t even take off work. Breathing, breathing, not. I can picture it. The “oh, no,” the scurrying around, the paddles on my chest, thwump. Clear! Thwump. Beep beep, beep beep, she’s back. Everything back to normal. THEY DON'T KNOW ANYTHING. **...
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