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keep doing this.”
She looked at me for a long time.
“If you think it’s right,” she said, “then I trust you.”
We went to the APS office in Tuloma, a low brick building not far from the county courthouse. Dorian greeted us in the waiting room, tall and neatly dressed, with a worn leather folder under his arm. He shook my grandmother’s hand gently.
We laid continue reading …
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