Nov 17
Her name is Brenda Tracy. We met downtown over coffee on a weekday morning a couple months ago. And I was struck that nobody in the passing parade of briefcases, lattes and workday stares appeared to notice the 40-year-old as she adjusted her ponytail, wiped the tears and unloaded a story that she’s carried like a bag of bricks for years.
“I’d decided I was going to kill myself,” she said.
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