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Picked Me a Plum by Ben Rader

THE lady at the door takes one look at Cal and puffs out her body like a blowfish. She’s got on white leather pants; an earth colored blouse and a buttery scarf around her neck—over all of that is a royal blue robe, flowing, with little lines of white dashing down the front. As her body inflates, grows wider and wider, the little white lines grow into big, fat exclamation points without the points.
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