Fiction | September 01, 1981
Lieberman's Father
Francois Camoin
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Lieberman had his eyes on his chicken salad and so at first didn’t see the woman. She stopped short at his table and stood, swaying a little this way and that, looking like a person who had just bumped into something and is wondering if she hurt herself. To the people at the next table it was clear what she’d bumped into was Lieberman.
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