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... was stuck between the strands of plastic and did not come off.


That looked like me. Me, who foolishly stayed in this bookstore without closing down.


I put the broom against the wall, brought a chair, and sat in front of the store. From some time onwards, I liked being outside more than inside.


Perhaps it wasn’t that I liked being outside, but that I hated being inside.


In any case, the opposite of hate was like, so being outside was good.


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