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... fumbles with her purse to get to a keycard. The glass doors at the entrance to a modern apartment building glare at me from this angle, making it hard to see clearly.
> But she seems to be managing well enough. Now I can go back to my own place and pretend half of this whole evening didn’t happen. <
When the door closes behind her, something hard taps against my ankle. I jump and spin around, my heart slamming back and black fur bristling up my neck. And I see a long white ...
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