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Summary
His carry-on was neatly packed, his passport in its dark leather cover that he grasped in one shaky hand. He rubbed at his wrist, then checked his watch for the third time in the last two and a half minutes, before sitting as patiently as he could in one of the empty chairs at the gate in LAX. He was three and a half hours early.
(BellyConrad Paris Diaries from Conrad’s POV)
