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23 Reunion Why do you keep returning, alive, able to walk and gesture as you could not at the end, your movements sketchy, more holographic than warm? Thanksgiving dinner with all the relatives and I alone with the suspicion I cannot speak: You should be elsewhere. Heavy drinking, as always. The newest baby passed around like a contagious glow. Same teasing of the strong, same muffled terror of the uncertain. All the while you, at the head of the table like a signal carried by a frayed wire—there, gone, there—raising a glass to toast, the rim never touching your lips. ...

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