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Chapter 89: Interviewer (1)
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... e rain had once touched the edge.
His fingers hovered over the page, still slightly raw from earlier casts. The ink-stain on his thumb made a soft dot near the margin as he pressed it down absentmindedly.
The street around him was quiet now, low-volume traffic, shoes on concrete, the occasional grind of a hover platform moving crates too large to walk with. No voices nearby. The only crowd was inside his head.
He closed his eyes for a second.
Let the city fade. ...
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