The Third Watch
The letter arrived on a Thursday in April, postmarked from a town in Alaska I had never heard of, in an envelope that smelled faintly of kerosene and cold. Inside was a single sheet of paper, folded twice, with my brother's handwriting. I have stayed, the letter said. I will not be coming back. Do not look for me. That was all. Six sentences. No explanation, no apology, no farewell. My name is...
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