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the phone.

The call was short. Calm. Direct.

When she hung up, she looked at me.

“They want to meet you,” she said.

“When?”

“Tomorrow. Here at the shop, at noon.”

I was scared, but agreed. I wanted… no… needed answers.

“They want to meet you.”

I didn’t sleep that night.

Not because I couldn’t, but because my mind wouldn’t stop working behind the scenes.

***

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