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driveway.
Hattie stood on the steps.
Daydress.
Hair unkempt.
Face swollen.
A ghost haunting her own life.
She tried to summon imperious attitude.
She shouted.
Pointed.
Demanded they leave.
The lead agent—a woman with a face like a closed ledger—handed her a paper.
A seizure warrant.
Hattie crumbled.
Knees gave out.
She sat on the cold stone steps while strangers continue reading …
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