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His thoughts were interrupted by a shout from the street. Loud, laced with such a string of profanity that even Yuri, who grew up in rough neighborhoods, let out a whistle. He turned. On the sidewalk under a streetlamp stood a man in a black sweater, rolled up to his elbows. One hand pressed a phone to his ear, the other gripped a cup with the café’s logo, nearly crushing it with the force of his grip.