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I sat on a bench by the water faucet and tried to pick the wood splinters out of the backs of my hands. The wind came up and the robins filled the air with a sound that was almost deafening, their wings fluttering above my head, their breasts the color of dried blood.
"Are we still going to the show tonight?" Alafair said.
"You better believe it, you," I said, and winked.
She flipped Tripod up on her shoulder like a sack of meal, and the three of us went up the slope to find Bootsie.
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