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... creeped me out, like a glitch in the world’s logic—it always made my skin crawl.
But even that was better than the woman standing in front of me right now.
The person I’d crashed into was a tall woman in a low-cut, revealing outfit. She wore high heels, had a head of brash, bleached blonde hair, heavy makeup, blood-red lipstick, and perfume so thick it stung the nose.
She looked exactly like the type of woman you’d see prowling a nightclub—loud, trashy, and flashy.
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