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“Hot dog?” she asks, handing the vendor a twenty and collecting her lunch, dumping streams of condim

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“Venture to the LES again?” He heaves a dramatic sigh. “I suppose I could.”

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She hated it.

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But this diary, with its black, soft suede engraved letter C . . .

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How I ended up with a roommate and friend with such loose morals, I’ll never be able to explain. She

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