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Mr. Duca.”
“That’s right.” He glanced at the little purse. “Did you come here to show me something?”
Sophia nodded.
Her fingers fumbled with the brass clasp. Twice it slipped. On the third try, it opened. She reached inside with both hands and pulled out a folded square.
It was not paper.
It was an old Polaroid.
The white border had yellowed. The corners continue reading …
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