Chapter 17
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Bill sat at the counter in the little diner, the worn stool having become his “spot” over the years.  Anyone at work who had to find him in a hurry always knew where to look come lunchtime.  No one does that anymore, he thought, looking at his cell phone where it lay next to his plate.  Everybody’s too fuckin’ connected all the time.  He frowned, and lifted the last bit of club sandwich to his mouth, popping it in just as the phone buzzed.  Ain’t no such thing as downtime anymore, he thought with a sigh.  Bill chewed slowly, and picked up the phone.

The caller ID read anonymous, and Bill was in no mood to talk to either a pollster or a salesman.  He tapped the “ignore” button and laid the phone...

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