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At my father’s graveside, the gravedigger gripped my arm and whispered, “Sir, your father paid me to bury an empty coffin.” Before I could even speak, he pushed a brass key into my hand. “Don’t go home,” he warned
After my son hi:t me for refusing to pay his gambling debts, I didn’t shed a tear. The next afternoon, I roasted a prime rib, polished his late father’s polished his late father’s crystal glasses, and set the dining room to perfection.
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