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... o bells to mark it, no hymns drifting through open windows, no sense that the day itself expected to be remembered. It came the way most useful things did now—quietly, without announcement, already underway by the time Phillip noticed it.
He woke later than usual, light filtering through the thin curtains in a pale, winter-muted glow. The cold had eased slightly. Not enough to melt the snow entirely, but enough that it no longer felt brittle. The house was quiet. No voices. No footsteps. ...
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