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I was just coming out of the study after the talk with my father. The conversation had gone on longer than I’d expected. Longer than any conversation we’d had in years, actually.
The fact that we’d talked that long was weird and unfamiliar. Tom Blackwood wasn’t known for heart-to-hearts. He was efficient. Direct. Said what needed to be said and moved on. But today he’d lingered. Asked questions about my plans. About Alicia. About what I was really doing back in Silver Lake ...
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