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TwelveFourtyFive
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And then Al continued to silently hum and drink his coffee outside, until class began.

When he walked in, he noticed that, if he had went inside earlier, he did not have to wait alone...but now it was too late, since, well, Groves would arrive soon-ish.

Too bad, he wished he wouldn't have bored himself alone. Al-one. Music. Muse. That's why he was alone. Maybe.

((Alessio Rigano, continued in Hearts of Irony))
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Not My Tempo · West Wing