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  • It was baking hot. Hamadi had decided we should meet at the casino and I had to fight my way through the crowd that was bigger than usual for red carpet premieres.

    Pausing for a gap in the foot traffic, I looked about me at this phenomena of movie worship and pondered for a few minutes the psychology of it all.

    Whatever it was, I didn't get it. Though if this were my film showing, I'd probably be delighted.

    Right now though, I was hot and sticky and ready for peace and a chat about screenplays of our own with the friend who had started me writing them in the first place.

    The casino, when I got into it, was dark, air conditioned and the sandwiches were cheap and tasty. I settled at the table where Hamadi was ensconced, dropped my bag down and stretched out my legs.

    Outside no longer existed.
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