They Were Hers
Whenever I see these guys, they remind me of her. They’re top brass tough, not much different than she. They’re beyond curious and so was she, never stopping unless Dennis needed a prod or ten from Bailey the White Rabbit, tap tapping the shaft of her cane before poking it in his general direction. She would be nodding in agreement if she were here, puzzle in one hand, pizza in the other.
They were her favorite. She was one of mine.
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