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The TV in the bar was on, and the man at Tom's side was letting his mouth run loose as he sucked back on his third beer in Popeye's none-too-copyrighted Pub. Jeez, he thought, I finally meet the one, the one, and she's going out with Kurt. With Kurt! How does he do it? Alona's, what, his third this year?
Tom asked. "Doing what?" "Concessions." "My job?!" "Be glad you were out of it," Alona said. "Yeah, but I wasn't even told I was fired!" "So who is this guy?" Ritchie repeated. "I don't know. No name tag," Justin replied. "He's moving!" Betty shouted. All turned toward the man who lay in the alley. Somehow, he was still alive, gasping for breath. When his gaze caught Alona's, she recognized him.
They wanted Alona to work in the town's newly renovated theater, an investment in which they owned a small percentage. Alona's sobs lasted for some time, and she knew, just knew, that her water-proof mascara had run, so she opened the glove compartment to find a Kleenex. Out fell a letter. Her sobbing stopped as she picked it up from the dusty car floor.
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