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Inhere, Outthere

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Although the overhead fans hissed tirelessly, I swear I could feel it — the heat from outthere crawling through the cracks, threatening to do us all in. “Be my guest,” I dared the sliver of sun between the boarding bridge and the train. My hands itched as I rushed past business class, but when I snagged a seat, I found no rash on my palms. Not even a flush.

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