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I Was Holding My Son’s T-Shirt When His Teacher Called And Said He Had Left Something Behind

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propped up in a hospital bed visible through an open doorway, straightened up and clapped once.

Charlie moved through that ward like he had done it a hundred times, because — I was beginning to understand — he had. He pulled stuffed animals from one bag, coloring books and crayons from another. He did a slow-motion pratfall in the hallway that made continue reading …

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