“Everyone wanted to talk about him at first, Ruthie. They talked about what a good man he was. How much people loved him. But he lived a quiet life. They stopped coming after a few months. It didn’t take them long to forget about him. They moved on. Forty-eight years on this earth, and in the end, what did it matter? His own brother didn’t come to his funeral. The people who came cried and carried on and said it wasn’t fair, and the next day they were doing the same shit they’d always done, without a second thought for him. Like it didn’t matter. The only ones who remember are my mother and
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