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The Message From My Son That Forced An Impossible Choice – The Archivist

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“Clumsy me.”

The security guards shifted uncomfortably. They knew me. Some of them had worked here for fifteen years. They’d brought their kids to company picnics, attended Sarah’s funeral, shared coffee in the break room while swapping stories about the crazy things they’d seen on the night shift.

But they had new bosses now. New orders. New paychecks continue reading …

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