The seat was dusty, from which I deduced that Mr. Bowditch hadn’t been working his puzzle for quite some time. Maybe he’d given up. I know I would have; a lot of what was left to be assembled was plain old blue sky without even a single cloud to break the monotony. I’m talking about this at more length than it deserves, maybe… but then again maybe not. There was something sad about it. I couldn’t express the reason for that sadness then, but I’m older now and think I can. It was about the jigsaw, but it was also the antique TV and the Hall of Old Reading Matter. It was about an elderly man’s
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