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Summary
There was an empty parking space at the Sheriff’s house. He sold the jeep two months ago to a broke college student, agreed on the price of five hundred dollars because it just barely ran and he couldn’t stand to look at it anymore. The second bedroom door on the left was permanently closed, keys thrown in a dresser to collect dust. It reminded them of what it had been like when they had forgotten him, when the door was thick with wallpaper instead of wood, but at least he had still been alive then.