Two servos came out from the kitchen and stood near them—making sure, I suppose, that the fire didn’t spread. Nobody moved. Nobody said anything. Finally, when the smell had become unbearable, I left the Burger Chef. But I stopped when I saw a man staring from outside through the window at the people in flames. I stood next to him for a moment. Then I said, ‘I don’t understand it.’ The man looked at me, blankly at first. And then he frowned with a look of distaste and shrugged his shoulders and closed his eyes. And I began to blush from embarrassment as I realized that I was crying. Crying. In
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