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The little boy marched up to our table of leather-clad bikers and slammed down a…

The little boy marched up to our table of leather-clad bikers and slammed down a piece of paper. On it, written in uneven letters, were the words: โ€œDADDYโ€™S FUNERAL โ€“ NEED SCARY MEN.โ€ His tiny hands were still stained with marker ink. His Superman cape was on backward. The diner went silent as fifteen hardened […]

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