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sharp.
“Harper,” he said, “when I’m gone, do not argue with Eleanor in the house.”
“Why would you say that?”
“Because she’ll want the walls to hear her version first.”
I did not understand then. Not fully.
He reached for my hand. His fingers were thin, cool, still familiar.
“I made arrangements.”
“What kind?”
“The kind a man makes when he realizes he should continue reading …
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