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Brooklyn’s unusually cool temperatures kept the streets empty. A heavy wall of gray clouds quickly moved in, bringing rain that tapped lightly on the window outside the aging brick house. The phone rang and the old man reached for it from his usual place on the sofa.
He coughed before speaking. “Is it done?”
He listened for a moment and then said, “You know what to do next. I’ll be in touch with the final payment.”
Primo Simonelli flipped the phone shut and returned to gaze out the window at the tiny sparrows flitting around a puddle in his yard.
