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... nd to reach when the urgent parts are finished and the rest of the day is politely waiting its turn. I was behind the counter, and the Walker was at the stool with its hands folded. Fog drifted along the north corridor ceiling in the same relaxed stretch it had occupied since before the bread went in the oven.
The ritual had happened at seven. Clean, no complications. Rituals like that once they know their lines. I set the cup across the counter without being asked, which is how these ar ...
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