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The listener
No story lives unless someone wants to listen. The first time I told the story it was to a person working alongside me, a captive audience used to my meandering tales, but, to be fair, it had been an interesting event worth the telling. The second time it was to a family member who was only interested out of duty, supportive but, although slightly honed, not critical of my storytelling skills. And I was ready to tell the tale on the third telling, I had sorted the order and the development. But you weren't there to listen.
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Good days and bad days, and throughout what...
April 24
