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My heart is pumping, I look left and right to see who might be watching me, in the dark of the night. My hands quiver as I try to quickly tie up my package. I curse myself for not picking the ideal position in my anxiety for haste. Too late now, I have to finish the job I started. I whip my blade out to cut off the ends. I stand back to survey my work. With my camera phone I take two quick snaps as evidence then quickly walk back the way I came, hands in my pockets, aiming for casualness, but not quite carrying it off. I chance one last glimpse behind me. Is that someone stopped in the spot where I was just standing? Will my package be where I left it by morning? Or will the short arm of bureaucracy sweep away my symbol of hope in a world of steel and concrete, for no good reason other than doing the Right Thing rather than the Nicest Thing. I don’t know how long I will last in this game. If anyone asks, you haven’t seen me right? You know nothing.

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