There was a girl. She was the granddaughter of a girl he'd once loved, long ago. It was the regret of his life that he'd let Fatima get away. He'd kep... track of her over the years, and knew she had children and grandchildren. And he knew one of the grandchildren worked at a bank.The same bank he was standing in front of now. He saw the girl, working at her desk by the big window, and marveled at how much she looked like Fatima. She had the same silky black hair and tawny skin, and eyes like. No one even got close to scoring. “This is going to be a low scoring game,” I said dejectedly at the end of the quarter.“I don’t think so,” Charlotte said. “I’ll bet that we get at least two touchdowns more than you.”“You’re giving me fourteen points?” I said back. What’s the bet.“Twelve points,” she replied, “and...” She looked around. “The loser... and her whole section... has to do two laps around the house naked.” She smiled at me and said, “Outside, in the snow.”The Pats were supposed to. More

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