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Six Pairs of Thick Gray Socks Saved My White House on Elm Street

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The only paper on the table was the morning edition of the Canton Repository, folded neatly beside my sugar bowl.

I sat down in my chair and looked at the kitchen cabinet. Inside the top drawer, resting behind the silver spoons, was the spare house key I had taken back from Greg. It was on a brass ring, heavy and cold. It would stay in that drawer continue reading …

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