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“Because he was four, and he tried harder than I did.”
No one spoke after that.
The cold worked its way through my slippers. Somewhere beyond the cemetery, a truck downshifted on the highway. Life continued with insulting normalcy.
Vernon handed me a small brass key.
“Unit 18. Willow Creek Storage. The code is Claire’s birthday.”
Quincy stared at him.
“You continue reading …
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