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A man took the accessible seats I had spent almost everything I had on, told me my son could watch from the concourse and that he probably didn’t know the rules anyway. Then a small woman in a grey cardigan in the row behind us stood up with an old metal lunchbox in her hands.

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PART 1 — THE LUNCHBOX My son Jonah is eleven and he had been counting down to that game for four months. Not in a general way. He had a strip of paper taped inside… 

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The boss who shared his bread

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— Marcel, after the break, you’re going to the hospital. The worker looked at him, perplexed. — What do you mean, I’m leaving? We still have a slab to pour. — We’re sinking it without… 

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