Dedicated to that evil dragon that still waits for me behind every convenience store counter.
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You’ll have to come with me |
“You’ll have to come with me,” he said.
He looked at me with a mixture of suspicion and threat. His eyes were narrowed and his pupils had shrunken to menacing pinpricks surrounded by gray. His stiff blue suit, emblazoned with official insignia and the telltale wire hanging from his earlobe gave him authority. But his short-cropped hair, steely gaze, and thick Israeli accent gave him power. He had not said “Will you please come with me” or even “Come this way, sir.” He had said “You’ll have to come with me” as if some unseen force would compel me if I resisted. It might, I thought.
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