Laconic Linda shook out a Marlboro and rolled the pack back into the sleeve of her t-shirt. She lit up, holding the smoke down deep. Linda was the only “girl” on the hall of analysts. Like the rest of us, she’d learned her trade in the Army. She looked like Patty Smith—you know, the celebrity you most resemble—dark, chopped-off hair—except she had a much tougher aura than Patty though she too was pale, built like Olive Oil. After six months Linda disappeared. I heard she moved to California with her boyfriend. Boyfriend? I’d never have guessed it.
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"Classic"
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