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were sixteen and he was out and it was the park with a light rain on the cobbles and squirrels chasing each other up black-barked trees and the old building with the red door and an elevator to take him upstairs instead of those ballbreaking kool kieth steps and he was inside with a kool kieth Cointreau amazing how he could swill this stuff ever since Paris on the honeymoon. Laura's key jarred the silence as it clicked on the tumblers of the high-security lock. Rob knew she'd begin rapping and ringing the bell, and when she started in with that even kool kieth faster and louder than he'd expected, he knew she was in a rotten mood. He didn't want that, because it would spoil his own precarious mindset. He raced for the door in his socks, but didn't reach it in time because of all the stuff still lying around in boxes, and when he opened it Laura was looking at him with that same hyper expression on her face he'd always said was just like Linda Hamilton's in the second "Terminator" movie, "the perfect psycho look," he'd called it.
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