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| The Young J. Joyce |
Beginning: hot hot big white coffee still red from the touch of the morning fire (artificial fire). Wondering around smiley and sulky papers (of all tastes) as a mere administrator with the most objective attitude possible. What else, but follow the line of utter correctness.
A wintry ride back which bestows on you a most gloomy continence.
End: restful scent of the bed, plus smell of the unwashed 