My Sister Broke Into My Mansion

“From where, Mr. Sloan?”

He mumbled the pawn shop name.

I knew it. Sand Dollar Pawn, next to the bait place with the hand-painted shrimp sign.

“How much?” I asked.

“Two-fifty.”

The watch was worth maybe twelve hundred.

That wasn’t why my knees went stupid.

Mom whispered, “Oh, Derek.”

Not “oh, Claire.”

I set the empty box on top of the SELL pile.

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