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Someone once said the key to happiness was a bad memory
Someone once said the key to happiness was a bad memory, but few men would choose to forget everything. Will rubbed his thumb along the smooth fold of the wallet, then looked up at Weiss, hoping for guidance. “So . . . it’s time?” The question was rhetorical. Still, his other hand lingered, loosely fondling the handle of his suitcase. “You know,” he said, grappling for words. “For about five seconds, I thought it was going to be all right.” “Which five?” Weiss asked offhandedly as he brushed by. A vase of still-vibrant daisies caught his eye. “I don’t know.”
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