THE HOSTAGE'S DILEMMA
I cross the street, my eyes still darting around, looking for any clue, any sign that this wasn't a wasted trip.
As I step inside the Candy Corner, the bell above the door jingles, a surprisingly cheerful sound. The air inside is thick with the sweet, cloying smell of sugar and something vaguely fruity. Shelves are crammed with colorful packets of sweets, old-fashioned jars of hard candies, and a small, dusty display of newspapers.
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