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the bank had frozen his line of credit.
He had tried to sound casual at first. “Ri, I hate asking.” Then he went quiet, and I knew.
I was in a hotel outside DC at the time, eating vending machine pretzels in bed after a twelve-hour briefing. I still remember the smell of that room. Bleach, stale carpet, burnt coffee from the lobby. I wired him money continue reading …
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