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R. J. DeRose

The Line on the Fight

Small drops of water were falling. There was a breeze too, visible in the stray hairs of the other people in the street, especially the women. Ponti was thirty-two and bald. He only felt the wind on his face. Blisters of water were beginning to gather on his glasses.

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The Brooklyn Rail

DEC 19-JAN 20

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