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... t dream was a displaced time from over two decades ago, when he had a different person in his bed every night. He was almost always the first one to wake in the morning, and he always made breakfast; bacon, eggs, and toast. But no, he was 48 now. His 20s were long gone. The dream was recognized, and then it faded.
And then came an impression of three months ago, when Jane showed him the letter of acceptance for an internship at the CIA. They had gone out for Sunday breakfast like they ha ...
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