When I came home from a week-long work trip and found a hundred roses covering my front porch, I assumed someone was trying to steal my wife. Then I found the note that changed everything. I knew something was wrong before I even turned off the engine. For seven years, whenever I came home from a work trip, my wife, Jane, was always on the porch before I finished pulling into the driveway. Sometimes she waved with both hands like I had been gone for months instead of five days. Sometimes she stood there barefoot in one of my old...
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