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... Kenny Clark?" The man looked up at me, seemingly confirming my identity.
"It’s me. You’re not Haitians." These two guys were typical Latin mixed race. They had black or brown hair, no African heritage.
"You’re dead." The man coldly stared at my cheek.
I stepped forward, grabbing his hair, "Many people say that, but in the end, I’m still alive. Who are you? Why are you at my house? You’re not Costa Ricans."
"You took something from our boss."
"What?" I was ...
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