Whenever
she said, trying to cool her cheeks and manage some sort of composure.
Then she moved away and stood closer to the courtesy phone. She leaned against the pillar and tried to look for her date.
But the guy with the trash can wasn’t leaving. He set the bin down near a chair, came around, and leaned against the pillar beside her. “Was your gum grape or raisin flavored?”
“Those are the same,” Helen said, still scanning the room and not looking at the man next to her. “It just depends on whether or not the French side of the package is showing.”
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