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The Morning After My Son’s Funeral An Airport Worker Called About The Bag He Left Behind

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wall four feet in front of me.

I thought about the past four years. About the way Tara had moved through the house from the beginning, not like a guest, not even like a resident, but like a surveyor taking stock. I thought about David sitting on the stool in my garage in his last weeks, turning a pocket watch in his hands, saying it runs perfectly now,continue reading …

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