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I opened my toolbox and went through it the way I always did. Top down. Not because I didn’t know what was in there. I did. But the point was making sure my hand reached for the right thing and not the thing next to it.
Mallet first. Head cracked, still waiting on the replacement I’d been promising myself for two months. Spare brackets under that. Three sizes. Level. Two chisels. The joint compound meant for table six, which had been on my list long enough to qualify as furniture. ...
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