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204. Night Shift

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A rusty Swiss Army knife fell out of his pocket. “Prop him up.” He sat with his head hanging to one side, half a bowtie still visible. We found a Bible, a fluorescent rosary and three silver rings. “Tough night.” The moon slid behind a cloud and the rosary lit up in my hand. I threw it back at Mr. Merrifeather. The cypress trees, like quiet sentinels, looked down upon as we scaled the graveyard wall. Cough syrup bottles and syringes crushed under our disappointed feet as Mr. Merrifeather sat in the awkward position we had left him in.

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