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Friday, February 27, 2004

The fireplace at the library was toasty. Books about blood and tattoos and eccentrics surrounded me.

A mother lost her child. A police officer questioned everyone. A husband spoke aloud while his wife whispered to him not to disturb me. The child was reading in the part of the library diagonally opposite of me.

In the end, the librarian tricked me into paying more for sale books.

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