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certainty that breakfast is overdue. I poured his food, made coffee, stood at the sink looking out into the yard.
The fence still needed fixing.
The phone rang around nine.
I picked it up.
“Emily.”
My mother’s voice. Soft. Careful.
“Yes.”
A pause. “We heard.”
“I figured.”
“He’s been sitting on the porch all morning,” she said. “Hasn’t said much.”
“That sounds continue reading …
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