Earlene Frazier had never owned a computer, and she intended to keep it that way. Her phone was a flip model from the Obama administration, and the only screen she stared at longer than five minutes was the one on her kitchen television, tuned to the weather radar.
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Trevor flipped through the cards. Eighteen names. Eighteen addresses. Eighteen small-town Mississippians who would sooner give up cornbread than a paper bulletin. Earlene Frazier had never owned a computer, and
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