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coveralls.
The locksmith.
Dad was pointing at my front door, gesturing wildly.
He pulled out his wallet and showed the man his driver’s license.
He was trying to drill the locks.
He was going to break into my house.
I didn’t think.
I reacted.
I ran to the living room window, threw the sash up, and stuck my head out.
“Hey!” I screamed at the locksmith. “Hey,continue reading …
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