“Goodnight. She found herself mildly entertained by staring at the houses through the rain as she walked home, all cast in a gray blurry film noir gauze of rain. Like carpenter, like chips. " "Why didn't he arrest Mr. “Mike, what’s going on?” She sat up, groggily rubbing her eyes. She heard him come in; the light burned on. As though it was indelicate—it’s just a sort of shyness. Anna was suddenly very quiet.
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