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without making it feel like charity. One Sunday, Tessa arrived with a pot of chili. —”It turned out kind of ugly,” she said. I tasted a spoonful. It lacked salt. I felt a sweet shiver. —”It’s decent,” I replied. And everyone laughed, even though Tessa didn’t understand why. That’s how Mr. Arthur continued playing pranks after he died. A year after continue reading …
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