Amelia’s Run

Amelia dodged the potholes of a heartless Minnesota spring, coasting past his address as if piloting a hearse. Rounding the corner, her faded, black Ford Taurus sped up the hill overlooking his property. She parked her makeshift crow’s nest and positioned her binoculars. Bingo. OCD routine intact, Don sauntered to his classic Volvo and wiped …

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