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don’t.”
“He lost things too.”
Asher arrived the next morning carrying coffee, donuts, and the guarded expression our family specialized in.
When I showed him the room, he stopped in the doorway.
“No way,” he whispered.
I handed him one of Dad’s letters.
He stared at it like it was a bill collector’s notice. “So what now? Dad was secretly a saint?”
“No. He continue reading …
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