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The woman who was Florence

A few nights ago, in the midst of writer’s block, I pulled two books from the bookcase on “things to write about.”

I opened a section and read the first thing I saw.

“You’ve long suspected that your best friend is a CIA operative. Now your child is in danger overseas, and you need help.”

Not touching that one.

“Your cat (or dog) has a Twitter feed. What are its first three tweets?”

Flat stare. Try again.

“One of your grandparents teaches you something important.” Bingo!

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