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The Gift Wedding. Condolences. Birthday, humorous. Birthday from the cat? Weiss’ eyeroll attracted the clerk’s attention. “With fake holidays and niche marketing, you’d expect a ‘Welcome back from the dead’ card.” “Don’t have those,” the clerk replied like Weiss was an old woman hunting for a thirty-cent card. Blank seemed attractive, but Weiss was no Robert Frost. Given free reign, he’d scribble something inappropriate. “Good luck with those missing two years,” had a catchy ring to it. “The right gift needs no card,” the clerk offered. “Do you have the right gift?” Weiss eyed the book’s worn dust jacket. “I hope so.”
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