For thirty-one years, Roland and I had slept beside each other.
Then, one night, I woke and found his side of the bed empty.
By morning he was always back, rubbing his lower back, blaming the mattress.
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Then, one night, I woke and found his side of the bed empty.
By morning he was always back, rubbing his lower back, blaming the mattress.
Abel Ward did not rush toward us. That was what I remembered most clearly afterward. He didn’t overturn his chair, shout threats, or charge…
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