"In the cellars of the night, when the mind starts moving around old trunks of bad times, the pain of this and the shame of that, the memory of a small boldness is a hand to hold."
John Leonard, critic (1939-2008)
It was the last promise to be kept. My grandparents reposed where they had longed to be, at last. For yes, I had tarried. The morning sea ...
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