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I should no longer be surprised at what is revealed when I wander the dark hallways of my past on rainy November nights. I should no longer be surprised, after Mr-Dr-Stacy and the $3.75 million "house" gift, at local-boy-makes-good. And "surprise" is truly not the most accurate term--an odd, uncomfortable combination of envy, pride, chagrin, wistfulness, and, in the end, just pleasure for someone I once knew better than anyone.
We were lucky that the dog didn't bark at the wrong time....
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