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Sunday Morning in Rehoboth

I was reading a book on the back porch. The sun gleamed through clouds of white mist. There was a Bentley parked on the corner, a black monument to pride. I watched the men on the sidewalk of the small road. The Bentley beckoned. The men’s pace slowed, and they gazed longingly with wide eyes in their turned heads. The Bentley did its job without even moving.

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