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Chapter 11: Lonely Gabe
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Chapter 13: Unbelievable Janitor
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... eyes focused on the old stains of blood and shallow gashes carved into the worn stone.
He traced them absentmindedly with the frayed strands of his mop, estimating how many strokes it would take to get them clean.
In his mind, he made notes—two strokes for dried blood, three for sticky guts, five if it was soaked into a crack.
That stain near the wall? Probably left by a failed spear technique. The one near the center? Maybe a misstep in footwork.
He was learning ...
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