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The clerk at the unemployment office would scan the list, sometimes tapping his pencil on one or two, and giving me an over-the-top-of-the-glasses look to see if I might possibly crumble and admit to forgery — which I never did. Then he’d stamp the sheet, go through his stack of checks until he found mine, and slide it across the counter to me.
Jay Squires
Henya Drescher
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A great picture you painted here.
Psychological thrillers writer, wife, mother, weightlifter, gardener. Stolen Truth on Amazon.
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