It was one of those New York evenings. A cold wind was
blowing off the East River. He’d made up his mind an hour ago that he was going
to go home and set the record straight. Tell the truth, even if it hurt; he had
to say what was on his mind. Nothing was ever going to be the same in his
family. He was sure of that. He was just about turn the corner when he decided
to go into a bar. The news could wait until tomorrow, it’s not as if September 11th
would be anything special.
bobby stevenson 2020
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