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I put the radio on while I cooked.
Margaret always used to hum Bing Crosby, and it felt like I was bringing her closer to me by repeating her old habits.
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page.
I was just starting to make the rolls when I realized I was short on flour.
How does a man run out of flour on the day he needs it most?
I grabbed my coat and crossed the street to Linda’s house. She’s lived there for 20 years. She watched my kids grow up and brought casseroles after Margaret’s funeral.
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