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... backward.
I looked at my hand. It didn’t hurt.
And that was the strange part.
I hadn’t given it everything I had. Not even close. And still, it felt like I’d hit him with a sledgehammer.
Some people stopped talking. Others pretended they hadn’t seen anything. But a guy at the next table stood up, frowning — maybe a friend of the old man. Another, further back, started moving toward us with the posture of someone who wanted revenge or just needed an excuse.
...
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