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The Decent Soup House. I washed the last plates. Put away the bread. Turned off the lights one by one. Before locking up, I sat in Mr. Arthurâs chair, the one with the embroidered cushion. On the table was his salt shaker. We had used it so much the lid was getting loose. I held it in my hands. ââWell, sir,â I said to the empty air. âLook at the mess continue reading âŚ
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