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its next chapter.
I parked and got out. The yard needed work. Weeds everywhere. The fence leaning.
I rolled up my sleeves and started pulling them out by hand.
Dirt under my fingernails again.
The good kind.
A neighbor wandered over. “You buying the place?”
“Something like that,” I said.
He nodded. “Needs fixing.”
“So do most things,” I said.
By late afternoon continue reading …
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