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By llamasarecool, Brooklyn, NY

“Ana,” Seth’s voice broke through the static. “I need to talk to you.” He squinted up at the white sunlight of early spring and tried to shake the metallic breath of the subway from his jacket. Seth hated the subway. He shuffled down the crowded sidewalk, clutching the cheap cell phone to his ear. “I don’t know what time it is there— I don’t know where you are.” Seth sighed and inhaled a waft of car exhaust. A disgruntled woman honked sharply at an idling Fresh Direct truck. Seth jumped, startled. “It’s been a while since I’ve heard from you…” he suddenly became very aware that he was talking to a piece of plastic pressed against his left ear. “Just call me when you get this.” He slammed the phone shut.

He continued fighting his way through the city streets. Doing anything in the city was somewhat of a fight for Seth.

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