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Writing on the back of some of the “paperwork” caught his eye. In lovely, large loops, a woman – presumably the one in the photography – had carefully written, “To my B-beloved David, may this image I-inspire you to look deeper into the mysteries of love and life. Yours F-Forever, Elaine.”
Turning it over, he found his breath escaping him. David fumbled the chair out form the desk, shoved aside the dust cloth which had partially snagged on the oak-rail chair and sat down before the last dregs of blood vanished from his head.