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... pocket at the convenience store.

It was a voice of someone who firmly believed he was doing the right thing.

“Let go.”

I wanted to shake off the hand that had grabbed mine, but couldn’t.

His face was thin, feminine.

He was a little shorter than me to boot. He was still a guy though.

A guy stronger than me.

With a deeper voice.

“I’ll let go if you stop.”

“This has nothing to do with you, right?”

“It’s still a crime. ...

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