When the Eight-Year-Old Boy We Were Adopting Came Home With Everything He Owned in a Black Bag—Then My Missing Brother’s Watch Fell Onto His Bed
“Books.”
“You know universities have libraries?”
“Those books aren’t mine.”
“Then why are we transporting them?”
Oliver ignored him.
I stood near the table.
The pocket watch rested beside his keys.
“You taking it?”
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