There had been fusses and scenes dimly apprehended through half-open doors. The man who came to our rooms, you know, that night was his friend. Who is it?” The man came a little further into the room. What was his problem, she thought to herself. ‘She is constantly thinking of you,’ I said. He lived on the seventh floor behind a winding set of hallways that towered over her in their grayness. B.
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