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The old clock on the mantel ticked, each second resonating like a hammer blow in Sarah’s chest. The phone slipped …
The old clock on the mantel ticked, each second resonating like a hammer blow in Sarah’s chest. The phone slipped …
The old, leather-bound journal lay open on my desk, its pages brittle with age. As I read my grandfather’s faded …
The phone slipped from Sarah’s grasp, clattering onto the tile floor. “What am I going to do?” she whispered, her …
The phone slipped from Margaret’s grasp, clattering onto the hardwood floor. Her son Michael’s voice echoed in her ears: “Mom, …
The musty scent of old paper filled her nostrils as Amelia sifted through her late grandfather’s belongings. A wave of …