Shoulders hunched into his high-school jacket, Daryl Glenn Hogue picked up his satchel and walked out into the chill. The rain had slackened to only a light mist, but it was enough to veil the noonday sun that might have dried him out. Sleeving away a sneeze, he retrieved the scrap of newspaper from his pocket. He wanted Ridgeway Avenue, which the man at the Stop n’ Save had said was about three blocks down. Then it was a right to a green and white cottage with 145 on the mailbox.
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