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“Okay, where do you want to go?” I asked, my hands resting on the wheels of the Porsche 928 as I drove at a relatively slow speed for practical reasons.
“I don’t know, Josh. I haven’t given it a lot of thought,” Daryl said from the passenger seat before turning around at the sound of a honk.
“Oh, shit! Here he comes,” she whispered exasperatedly.
“Here who comes?” asked Ron from behind me, turning to look out the back window.
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