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... appeared from the automatic doors, looking around with quick, anxious glances. She was carrying a small backpack on her back, a white t-shirt slightly hanging out from the zipper like she’d packed in a hurry. Ivy and her must have had a heated argument if she just grabbed her stuff and left without looking back.
Seeing me, she walked across the street. She reached the car, opened the back door first, and dumped her backpack on the seat with a soft thud. Then she hopped into the passenge ...
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