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No suit.
Dark sweater.
Dark trousers.
Same shoes.
Same careful seriousness.
“You work in the building,” she said, a little drier than she intended.
“I do.”
“You said that last night.”
“I did.”
“What is it you actually do here?”
He hesitated.
It was small. So small most people would miss it.
But Kora had spent years translating Hungarian poets. She knew a pause continue reading …
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