Erik swept the station’s pad clean of the night’s debris. Leaves. Streamers. Novelty sunglasses. Swisher wrappers. Confetti. Streamers. Used up bottles of booze tucked neatly into brown paper bags. As he swept, small plumes of smoke would puff up in the broom’s wake and he did his best to avoid it, knowing that the nature of dust precluded this. Still. …
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