272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. The thought passed through his mind even as he started to cross the terrace at a jogtrot, moving to head her off. Eluding the blow, Jack plucked his sword from the scabbard, and a desperate conflict began. His head bent down, intent on kissing her underneath the showerhead. .
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