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Bar Harbor
This morning, I found a message from mom on my big, boxy, cassette-tape-based answering machine. It was reminging me of the date of our next get-together, in a few weeeks, with a subtext of "I never get to see you any more." There was also a message from so me old codger, but I couldn't tell what he wanted because he spent all his time complaining about these new-fangled answering machines.

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Wasn't. All seemed perfectly ordinary.

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