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She took each step carefully, one hand on the railing, the other hand above her head so as not to collide with the basement's low ceiling. The bookcase had toppled, turning boxes of ornaments on their sides, scattering jagged pieces of red and green glass across the concrete foundation. Amid the holiday wreckage, decorated in tinsel and a strand of multi-colored mini lights, sat the old transistor radio. She hoped it still worked.

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