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She’s greeted by a scene so still it could be a photograph. The door to the mailroom is closed and his shoulders are slouched in a way she hasn’t seen in months. He looks like the version of himself that flew in on the redeye with a single suitcase and no home of his own, folding in on himself like the house of cards life he’d built in Cicero when the prospect of potential jail time was dropped on the table he’d built its foundation on. Kim takes a deep breath. And knocks.