“Angie,” I said. She smiled at me. “What are you reading?”
She handed me the book, a copy of Rebecca, by Daphne du Maurier. “It’s a suspense novel. It’s good for hiding the post-its.”
“Read it a lot?” I asked, peeking at the post-it. Different name, but otherwise, same reaper-time, same reaper-channel.
“I switch out,” she said, taking it
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