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Summary
“I need you to find them,” Andrew says, blowing smoke out of the corner of his mouth. Both of them allowed the cigarette on account of three phone calls with Higgins in the past two weeks. Fuck the NEL, and fuck his contract, and fuck the pig. Andrew starts the walk back up to the house from the street.
Neil just uses his nail to break the seal of the paper and glue. “I will.”
They don’t talk about the mail ever again.
Until they’re moving, and they do. Andrew opens the half-inch stack of paper himself, this time.