At Maple Grove Senior Center activity table Eleanor wrinkled her nose at this cocktail of smells, as Harold walked by. She rubbed a peeled corner of her playing card the way some women work a rosary. Beside her sat Frank — seventy-five or so, a few years younger than Eleanor, though you wouldn't know it to look at him. His poor hearing was a dead give-away. Harold clapped his hands at the room of ten or so residents, like a man trying to wake the dead.

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