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She is two years old, and he calls her peanut and carries her on his shoulders.
She’s four, and he lets her drink the last drops in his bottles of beer and stay up past her bedtime.
She is six, and he is screaming at her mother at the dinner table, before he flips it over.
She’s eight, and he’s in prison.
She is ten, and her mother’s dead.
Debbie Gallagher wants to know about the first boy who broke her heart.
He wasn’t a boy, she thinks. And it was broken long before anyone else ever had the chance.