Broken clouds
Broken clouds
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September 01, 2014
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The case of the vanishing key


Since that day on Cliff Lake, my van had been driven over 28,000 miles. A good many of those miles had been over the bumpiest roads imaginable. The cover of the glove compartment had been opened and closed often, its contents emptied and replaced numerous times. Nevertheless, not until that evening had the key suddenly appeared at Barb’s feet. Where had it been hiding for over a year and a half? I guess we will never know. Yeah, yeah, I know, “fishermen are born honest but they get over it.” However, this is as true a tale as I have ever spun.