Stormy Weather or 19th Nervous Breakdown?

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Of course, as I’m shoving the car door shut with my hip, Rufus’ aluminum water bowl goes clanging to the pavement with all of the subtlety of a gunshot. My eyes immediately raise toward Steve who has stopped, tilted his beige hat upward slightly, and is studying me. After all this time, I wonder if he recognizes me. The quick shake of his head tells me, why, yes, he does remember the cousin of the woman who broke his heart. Continue reading

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