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was typing furiously, her face illuminated by the glow of three monitors, her manicured nails clicking against the keyboard like tiny hammers.
She didn’t look up. Why would she? I wasn’t a client. I wasn’t a delivery. I was just… present.
I stood there for a full minute. Waiting. Testing.
Finally, I cleared my throat.
“Excuse me,” I said.
My voice was soft.continue reading …
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