CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
I arrived at my apartment to the welcome sight of my newspaper, tossed up against the door. I opened the door, lined up the shot, then kicked it inside as though it were a misshaped soccer ball. Damn thing flew nearly halfway across the one-room studio, and in a straight line. New career option? I grinned at the thought. Yeah, right.
My first order of business was to eat something. The hospital food was surprisingly good, what I’d had of it. And it’s not as if they had starved me. I just felt the need for some good old comfort food, something to keep me going.
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