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... aching as though he had been run over by an eighteen-wheeler truck. His neck was stiff, his back sore, and his limbs refused to move without protest. The blanket had slid halfway off the couch during the night and was now lying in a crumpled heap on the floor. His clothes had ridden up at the waist, exposing his back to the chilly air from the old AC unit, which was still wheezing in the corner. No wonder he felt like a piece of wood.
He dragged a hand over his face and slowly pushed hi ...
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