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like my boy.”
Sarah looked up. “Like a real dinner?”
“Real plates,” I said. “Too much food. Probably dry rolls.”
Grandpa Joe rubbed his cap between both hands. “Sarah doesn’t make friends easily.”
“Neither did Randy,” I said. “He collected people quietly.”
***
That Sunday, I set three places at my kitchen table.
“Sarah doesn’t make friends easily.”
Then I continue reading …
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