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  • The quiet mumbling caught her attention. She emerged from the letters of her book to look around. Right by her left side, on the yellow and orange seat of the train, sat a man, a Jewish man of large disposition. He glanced at her as he continued to whisper his prayer. She looked away, and back to immersing herself even deeper in the labyrinths of the General in her book. Deeper she went in, digging, mining for an invisible, inexistent warmth she wished to populate her presence with. And what awoke her from this dreamy stupor wasn't the fact that she merely fell as the train came to a sudden stop. It wasn't even the fact that the ring on her hand holding onto the pole broke. It was not even the bloody scratch that the broken ring created, and that stung bitterly. It was the pause in the whisper of the prayer, as he tried to catch her from the fall.
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