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Story No. 33238
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The hour was getting late, and most had left quietly, others could be heard a mile away
and, once heard, it would be out there forever.
Seeking things which compels us to believe life is
something more than provential. "Belief in the obscure" they would think and nod their heads, treating us like children from there on out.
There is a price for everything
and there are mothballs lining the inside of my pocketbook.
