Seventeen Minutes on Route 18 Wrecked an Eighteen-Million-Dollar Corporate Buyout
He asked if she was alone.
She adjusted the collar of that navy coat and told me she was.
I put the phone in my shirt pocket and squatted on my heels so I was below her eye level.
I asked whether she had a radio in the car, and she said she did, a station playing an old game.
“I don’t know anything about baseball,” she said.
“My husband did.
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