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© Rootbook

A Rootbook Author
2012 - today
Published by: Rootbook

Chapter 3

"May I sit down?" a contralto voice shot in his ear. Michael lifted his eyes and slowly looked over the brim of his half-full beer stein. The woman in front of him might be one head smaller, but made a bigger impression through her high heels. Her blonde mane streamed over the splintery table. She smelled of fish. Michael wrinkled his nose and, highly impressed, answered: