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There’s a smudge on the window, a smear from a finger pressed and dragged sideways, and he rubs at it absently with the corner of a sleeve as he gazes out. The world beyond is a picture of peace, green grass sloping into some indeterminate distance and shifting only slightly in the breeze that fails to even tug stray leaves down from
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[staring]
[feels impolite and reaches for the hang-up button]
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Ah... No, I don't need anything.
How are things with...?
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...she's the one who's here now.
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