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The Dead Man Texted Me After The Will Reading

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one more note.

Not for Manny.

For me.

Teg, check the mailbox at Pompano. The little one behind the breaker panel. Sunday key.

I closed my hand around the folder.

Sunday key.

The brass one Grandpa made me carry when I was sixteen because, according to him, “women who own keys don’t wait on fools.”

I still had it.

On my key ring.

Between my office key and the continue reading …

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