For a while they stood there, silent, motionless, staring at the doorway where still a few strings of the bamboo curtain swayed and twisted, agitated by the Wastrel's passage. It's gin—a liquor you used to like. She had been sitting on the bench for two and a half hours, which was uneventful except for the homeless men who begged for change. " Jonathan's eyes glistened as he told over the notes.
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