A slow anger burned in the man. That wasn’t even the worst thing. Speedily recovering himself, however, he rejoined, with forced calmness, "You are mistaken, Sir. The sky was dripping a wet, slow rain that had forced the city’s inhabitants into taxicabs and dingy cafeterias, the day wholly ruined for all except the insane schizophrenics and her. I was the black sheep, I was hurried out of the way.
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