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... ing by, she whirred the car to the entrance of my apartment building.
Upwards, from the dusted windshield, I could see my humble abode, still with the door ajar, still emblazoned with the bold black initials inscribed on the yellow tape sealing the doorway.
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“You can cross,” Irene said, clicking open the passenger-side lock. “I’ll allow it. Go grab some clothes, some things... We’ll find you guys another place to stay.”
Another click sounded, as I swung open t ...
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