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She inhaled on her cigarette as she sat on the ground, her back against the brick building. She pulled the cigarette from her lips and took a ragged breath. Her eyes began to sting, and a tear rolled down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away, but more soon followed it, and she gave up fighting them.She whimpered, resting her forehead to her fishnetted knees, and quietly cried. Her body shook with her crying and she let her tears drip down and create a wet spot on her shorts. She was cracking. She had been in this life for as long as she could remember, and she was finally cracking. “What are you doing here?”Angel quickly looked up. A police officer was standing in front of her, one hand on his holstered gun. Angel wiped her face, rubbing the tears away. “You can't be loitering here. I need you to get going.”Angel sighed, putting her cigarette back in her mouth. “Sorry, just waiting for my ride.”She stood, and the officer took a step back to give her room. He gave her a good look. I’d talked to him a few times about it, but hadn’t made any headway. He believed that computers would ruin the personal service on which he prided himself. I took my American Express card from my wallet and handed the leather folder back to Alex.Alex returned a moment later and I added a tip to the credit card receipt, signed it, and handed it back. He thanked us, we thanked him, and then we left the restaurant. After hugs and kisses all around, except for Kurt and me who shook hands, we all headed home.March 31, 1991, Chicago, Illinois“The game will be Friday,” Mario said when he called me at home early on Sunday afternoon.The Penguins had won their division, and the game they’d play later in the day against the Rangers wouldn’t change anything.“OK. I’ll give Barney a call. He’s waiting to hear from me to book my tickets and the hotel.”“A hotel might be a problem,” Mario said.“Barney made reservations to cover the necessary nights. The travel agency is big enough that he could do it.
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