Fiction | December 01, 1987

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She rounded the corner into the aisle with the beer and chilled wine and almost crashed into a man holding open the flap of his parka, stuffing an inside pocket with what looked like a bottle of champagne. He was so thin and the jacket so big, that when he jerked it across his chest the bottle was swallowed up–except for a barely discernable curve of glass against nylon, invisible.

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