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“Oh wow,” Paul said when I walked in. “I read somewhere that NASA was missing reflectors from the Hubble. Didn’t realise they made them into wearable pieces.” I looked down at my jacket. It was reflective silver. It matched the patches on my boots. Not that Paul could appreciate that. I met his serial-killer beady eyes. “I wore this so you could have a real long, hard look at yourself.”
Dearest Milton James
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