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Eight arms came out of the stranger’s trench coat. One caressed my cheek, saying, “You’re
handsome.” Another hand offered me a cigarette, but, politely, I said I don’t smoke. A third arm touched my chest, asking me, “Do you work out?” A fourth plucked a leaf out of my hair, for which I thanked him. A fifth tied my undone shoelace. A sixth pointed to my approaching bus. A seventh arm shook my hand good bye. When I climbed on the bus, I noticed my wallet was missing.
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