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Brittle Nails and a Disputed Greenhouse in Autumn

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were.”

Well now, I had my thumb pressed hard against my index fingernail, feeling the ridge there that had begun to soften just a little since the doctor started the new pills. The warmth of the sun through the glass was the only heat in the room, but my feet felt cold inside my leather work shoes.

“He is your brother, Donald,” I said.

“He is a thief,continue reading …

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