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shoulder. Inside, wrapped in a plastic Safeway sack to protect it from the damp bay air, was a book.
Not a library book. Not a bible.
A black composition ledger. The kind you buy at a drugstore for ninety-nine cents.
The corners were peeling. The spine was taped with yellowed scotch tape that was brittle to the touch. But the ink inside… the ink was indelible.continue reading …
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