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“So you’re like purgatory,” he said finally.

Tío Rico understood loneliness when he heard it. He’d heard it in the meatpacking plant, in the empty colonias after his wife died, in the reflection of his own face in a dark window. datamax of texas

“Same time tonight?”

Tío Rico squinted. “You’re a machine. You don’t forget. That’s your whole point.” “So you’re like purgatory,” he said finally

“Gone,” Tío Rico said. “Recycled. Wiped.” “So you’re like purgatory