For all I knew it could have been a really heavy cigar case. “I, uh, I had a gun,” I said simply. Or nothing at all. I had emptied the paper bag into the pocketsof my trench coat, and they bulged with toothbrush, paste, and books, I still felt scruffy
He tried to look humble and failed. So what sense was there in caring? But Piretta was something else. Richard was like me, he would never have a normal life. The guard gave him a piercing, altogether unfriendlylook, the sort of look a lackey gives an official, and let me keep everything but my lighter.
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