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... . "Not a battlefield."
I look past him. Suits. Dresses. Smiles that don’t reach the eyes.
"Funny," I reply. "Everyone looks armed."
His mouth curves, just barely. Not a smile. Something close
Before he can say anything back, a clear, sharp sound cuts through the room.
Clink. Clink.
A spoon against glass.
The noise ripples outward, conversations tapering off in uneven waves until the hall settles into something quieter.
I don’t need ...
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