I Was Never as Good as Grandpa Nick

The old steamer trunk was open and the clown doll lay on top of the pile even though its painted eyes were still shot. The wailing whistles were almost deafening in that cramped space. Josh stood there shaking slightly. His face deathly pale. On impulse I looked over to the chest of dolls but the lid was firmly shut. He said he didn't know he just wanted to leave now. So we did.

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