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hoosierdaddy
The night my father drove the Grey Ghost off the bridge into that water, the surface was black and red and blue, bouncing back police car lights and a tow truck’s flashers. I couldn’t see much else from the window of my mother’s car. Jason was asleep in his pajamas beside me; my faith in my mother was so absolute that when she leaned over the back seat to tell me everything was okay, I fell asleep too. Did we wake up again that night? Do I remember my father’s pearl-snapped shirt dark around the neck and shoulders or the fat bandage over his eye? Maybe. Maybe that was another time.
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