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Escape Route

He was my cousin and my father’s favorite apprentice.

Late at night when the fog was especially thick (which is to say every single night for many, many years) my father’s fakirs would slide down the chimneys of the grand and withdraw a few minutes later with a candlestick, a watch, a spoon, a brooch. When the thefts were discovered more servants would be sacked, more bellies would be empty and more children would crawl to my father pleading for work.

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