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... tch of Midtown on his battered scooter. His shirt clung to his back, sweat soaking through the cheap fabric, and fumes from traffic choked the air.

He muttered, "Same routes, same crap, same busted scooter."

Another delivery had just ended with a woman demanding he double-check every item, only to slam the door in his face over a missing sauce. She gave him a single crumpled dollar.

He sighed and turned onto a quieter street, thumbing through his route map when something ...

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