Sample V-06: The Architect of Lies
(New York Realism Style) I remember the first time I saw him. He was standing on the corner of 42nd Street, looking like a man who had been chewed up and spat out by the city. He was wearing a coat that had more holes than fabric, and he was talking to a pigeon with a sincerity that was almost heartbreaking. My name is Sarah, and I was twenty-two, fresh off the bus from Ohio with a suitcase...
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