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The Exit Broker

Lawrence Cirelli

Published by Lawrence Cirelli at

Copyright 2011 Lawrence Cirelli

The Exit Broker

Twenty minutes early for his appointment, Ben Certs sat in the restaurant holding his thumb in his teeth, though from across the room it looked like he was biting his nails. The waiter came over and asked if he wanted another drink. He had to ask twice to get Ben’s attention.

“Club soda,” said Ben.


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