Then I dropped my gaze, seeing a scrap of paper on the comforter. I walked over and picked it up, the fresh scent of the linens making my nostrils tingle. I read the note, the paper yellowed and nearly falling apart at the creases where it had been folded a thousand times. It’s yours now. Use it well. No one else knows, do not tell. When you’re done, pass it on. The Carfax Room hides us from what we want gone. I read it again, but I still didn’t get it. “The Carfax Room?” I said to myself. The writing was in black cursive, a little faded, and I folded it up, sticking it in my pocket.
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