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On a cold, blowy, darkest of nights, I was awakened with a start by a presence in my room, not that of a child or a pet or even a Japanese beetle but of something the likes of which I’d never seen, sort of an eerie being that seemed to loom.
He arrived not in Victorian bedclothes but in a work uniform with his name on his breast, his face creased with hard work and palms rough but strong, many muscles rippling in his chest.
His eyes sparkled with pride and productivity, and he spoke urgently to me about what he thought I should see.
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