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Richard Spiers

Short Stories
- Mr.

Mr.
         by Richard Spiers
Page 4 of 4

Forcing the casket away from the shelf on which it perched, there was nothing there but solid limestone from which it had originally been hewn.

I write this letter from the sanitarium I now reside, and to you I leave my possessions and have left orders that I never be permitted to leave. I ask you to not make contact with me, but occasionally come and observe me with sympathetic remembrance of that I once had been.


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