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The Knock Came Before I Could Dial 911

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around the phone until my knuckles hurt.

“Clara,” I said, without taking my eyes off the door. “Get in the closet. Behind the hamper.”

“I was bad.”

“No.”

“I was bad if I hide.”

“Hide anyway.”

She moved. Small rustle. Hanger tapping the wall.

The man at the door tried the knob.

Once.

Slow.

Like he had every right.

Sirens, finally

I have cleaned enough offices to continue reading …

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