I clutched the book to my chest in sudden, heart-wrenching sadness. Not because of the people we’d lost and would continue to lose, but because even with that loss on every horizon, life still called to me. Its voice took the form of an irascible old library patron who refused to let life quieten his passion, even when that passion burned hot to the touch. It spoke as a friendly neighbor across the street, who always had a smile and a cookie waiting. It was the sound of a coworker who’d been waiting patiently for me to notice his generous and never-wavering offer of friendship. It was even
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