Fiction | January 01, 1988

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I waited for him in front of the Fleet Reserve Association’s clubhouse, which towered conspicuously above the one-story shops on either side.  When he arrived, it was beginning to rain.  He parked his motorbike next to mine under the awning and we hurried to the door.  A bunch of Chinese kids stood around, punked-out and looking like they had money to burn, but it was Saturday night and they would have a hard time getting in without a member’s help.

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