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The sounds around him were slurred like a 45 record played at 33 1/3 and that made him laugh because no one here even knew what that meant.
He watched the knife descending towards his heart, helpless and unable to fight back with his arms held tightly behind him.
He closed his eyes, shutting out the punks surrounding him.
He concentrated, not wanting the picture in his mind when he died to be the squalor of this dark alley, and conjured up the face of his wife - a perfect view.
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That was really good! Well done. :)
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