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Of the Butterfly, Wings on the Muzo by Nicholas Jackson

LATE LAST WEEK, probably Friday, Hector lost his glasses, although it wasn’t until Monday at his desk in front of incredibly long rows of blurry text that he remembered he had lost them, spun around in his chair and asked Terri, well the back of her high-lit bob, if she had seen them, or if possibly a member of the cleaning crew had taken them to the lost-and-found or something.
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