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It was the same smell I had noticed in the empty boxes in Sherman Stoller’s garage.
A few of the empty boxes were trimmed with gold, jewels, or time-blackened silver, but those that held powders were unadorned.
Identical to the empty boxes I’d seen at Sherman Stoller’s new house.
After every few fifty-gallon trash bags were hauled out, filled with everything from decades-old half empty boxes of chocolates, to old cards and thank you notes, to hundreds of magazines, the layers of new stuff were revealed, as if we were peeling an onion.