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The middle-aged white man walking his very old, stiff-legged dog smiles as I walk by; the dog smiles too.
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The glass on the front door of the Subway sandwich shot is spiderwebbed into a million shards, but the young man sweeping up in the door way looks entirely unconcerned one way or the other; it's just a job to him.
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The sky is hazy, smearing the moon as I walk past the same stiff-legged, bushy-tailed dog standing in the middle of the sidewalk, smiling.
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