The Exchange of Harlem

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2026-06-10 08:12:02 -

ACT ONE Six hundred dollars in a manila envelope. That was my father's entire faith in me, folded flat and pressed between two sheets of newsprint. "Six hundred dollars," Patrick O'Brien said, his right hand gripping my shoulder, his left sleeve pinned neatly against his empty arm. "That's your six cows, Jim. Go make something of it. You're twenty-four. You can't dock forever." I stood in the...

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