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The Apartment #173

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The chatter on the silent screen must have been continuous. The table held thirty people and expensive clothes were splashed by first course droplets of exceptional bisque and the finest Dom Perignon P3 while the chink of glasses must have been a counterpoint to the nuzzled tinkling of hand -chosen jewellery. That all this was in silence captivated Tracey; she watched them talking and laughing, waving fingers in the air to make a point, gesticulating with their forks at one thing or another. There was no room in her head for thought: these images held her, hypnotically, beyond all reason.

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