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The gloves had to go.
Despite the bitter conditions and bone-chilling drizzle, it was necessary to go barehanded. There was no way to change a camera lens and handle a notebook and ink pen with gloves on.
Standing in the elements on a street corner Wednesday night had not been part of the plan.
Minutes earlier, a different evening was anticipated. After settling onto my basement couch with the dog at my side, a routine discussion about supper plans was interrupted by a telephone call.
That’s when I first heard about a shooting in Radcliff.
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