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Three Sisters Divided Over a Limestone Bakery Built in Nineteen Sixty-Eight

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The morning sun did not warm the limestone bricks of the town square when Beatrice and I walked past the hardware store at eleven. A sharp autumn wind swept dry maple leaves across the pavement, sending them scraping against the shop windows. Beatrice kept her heavy gray wool scarf pulled tight against her chin, her boots clicking softly on continue reading …

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