Wind Eggs
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Wind Eggs

Sue’s son Jim’s toes battered the rug like drumsticks on a snare head…

Where’s Dr. Peale When You Need Him?

Small Tales

Positively positive Sue’s son Jim sat on the couch with his arms crossed, his legs crossed and his face hidden behind a black cloud of teenage angst. His toes battered the rug like drumsticks on a snare head, and his fingers drummed his…

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