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| In the twilight of my life. |
His grandfather was a writer and occasional Einstein penpal. His father wrote books about baseball. And master himself likes to think he can turn a phrase. So why shouldn't his dog write, or so went his delusional thinking.
So here I am, toiling away as a writer in the last of my years. Honestly, this isn't how I pictured myself at the ripe age of 105, but I've elected to see it as the beginning of a final, lasting act to please Mr. Bill.
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