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The Case of the Artful Codger
“Our romance,” Alice said recently of Mr. Fickle, “is a thing of the past.” The man who once took her hand and squeezed it on an irregular basis rarely notices her any more. His gait has slowed and his...
View ArticleWhat’s In There?
“What’s in clouds?” Alice asked as I drove her home from the audiologist’s office. She pointed to foamy piles of cumuli drifting over the green spires of the St. Johns bridge. What’s in there?...
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