’ Gerald’s eyes never left the girl. “So it’s like you’re a dead end?” He asked innocently. He reached over and took her hand. \" She handed the ticket seller, a boy that looked to be all of eighteen years old, murder money that she had stolen from Dawn Plote's dead son, five dollars. "It was the story of a man, so to speak, who had left his vitals in his native land and wandered strange paths emptily. I arrived here with something less than five pounds in my pocket.
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