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I'm in a weird place where Kerithe will chat up a big fat ragular dude neighbor about his truck while unloading groceries in a blue skirt and floral print button-up, and say how she's been spending all day crawling up the asshole of the car she's unloading.
His eyes flash down to our hands and forearms, still covered in black car dirt.
She smiles back, sixty pounds of grocery bags in her hands and heads up the steps to our apartment.
