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Connecting dots
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“Charles?” Emma echoed, confused. Who’s Charles?” Jack shrugged, flipping through the pages. He had no clue, but these letters seemed important and old. Some of them dated back to the ’60s, the same year era the car was from, which made sense in a way. Emma ran her fingers over the paper, feeling the worn edges. “Maybe Charles was the owner of this car,” she said.
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