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Reading at Good World Bar this Sunday afternoon

Sunday I came down with a cold that developed yesterday into a hacking cough. Dana assured me I was not alone. “The train sounded like a TB ward this morning,” she said. Hypochondriac that I am, I was soon lost in visions of my impending quarantine at Bellevue. The prospect didn’t seem so bad, on reflection. Sure, I might lose . . .

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