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

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forty-eight dollars lighter than it had been when I woke up, a sum that felt like a fortune against my monthly pension.

I walked up the porch steps, my feet feeling like solid blocks of ice inside my leather boots. My hands were stiff as I reached into my bag for my house key, my fingers brushing against the folded medical release form.

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