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The Yacht Trip, The Memorial, And The Gift They Never Expected

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of the waves.

The touchscreen navigation panel—normally alive with charts, coordinates, blinking icons showing our position and course—was dark and dead. A spiderweb of fractured glass shot out from the center of the GPS module, as if someone had taken a hammer to it with deliberate, methodical violence. The radio, the sturdy old-fashioned one my grandfather continue reading …

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