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What Jessica said—hair much shorter, wearing a

What Jessica said—hair much shorter, wearing a darker mouth of different outline, harder lipstick, her typewriter banking in a phalanx of letters between them—was: We’re going to be married. We’re trying very hard to have a baby.
All at once there is nothing but his asshole between Gravity and Roger. I don’t care. Have his baby. I’ll love you both—just come with me Jess, please… I need you….
She flips a red lever on her intercom. Far away a buzzer goes off. Security. Her voice is perfectly hard, the word still clap-echoing in the air as in through the screen door of the Quonset office wth a smell of tide flats come the coppers, looking grim. Security. Her magic word, her spell against demons.

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