Fiction | September 01, 1978
Deja Vu
Joyce Carol Oates
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There was a young woman in the department, Eve, whom no one knew well. She was slightly older than the other students — twenty-six, twenty-seven. Married, with a bachelor’s degree from an Eastern college, very tall, very thin, her dark hair pulled back severely from her angular face and fastened into a careless knot at the nape of her neck.
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