What happens after the final out?
I hobbled through the front door of my apartment after a long day teaching tennis lessons, and as I threw my keys on the counter, I spotted an opened Amazon.com box in the trash can. I scanned the tiny kitchen for its contents before my husband, Tyler, called my name from the bedroom.
I walked the two steps into the open doorway.
"Who sent this?" he asked, holding up a book for me to see.
I could barely make out the title ...
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