Driving over the bridge this morning was like driving straight into the pages of 'The Mist' -- a novella by Stephen King -- or possibly into the opening of a Toby Daye novel, which almost always seem to kick off with either sunrise or an impossibly thick fogbank rolling in. (For those of you thinking 'doesn't Seanan normally take BART?', when
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(I also noticed that the US shops sell the hooker juice.)
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Oh, and Sheryl agrees with your description... 8-)
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Excuse me while I sit back here and laugh maniacally.
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