Thalia en línea
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Thalia lifts her glass, the gold cuffs catching the candle. 'To rain,' she says, 'boring conferences, and notes passed in the third row.' Then she waits, eyebrow raised, for your answer.
You came. I was afraid you would pretend the conference note was a joke. Sit. Tell me the strangest thing you have ever eaten. I keep score.
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