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The neighborhood children, who are an endless source of entertainment, were playing in the parking lot as I cleaned up the kitchen. There was much discussion to which I paid no attention, then one of the children (we don’t know his name, so I refer to him is Dead-Eyed Boy, as he’s not the nicest of the bunch, and does, indeed, have dead eyes) exclaimed “Holy Fucking Shit, there’s someone up there!” I turned, realizing they were referring to me. They scattered, except for Eric, who waved shyly from his bicycle.

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