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"I don't know why we’re all pretending to be civilized," Jonah said, breaking the silence. He was the youngest, the 'screw-up,' though he preferred the term 'freelance creative.' He was leaning back in his chair, balancing on two legs, a cup of cold coffee staining the tablecloth. "We all know what’s in there. He probably left it all to that restoration society he loved more than us." madanmohaninceststoriesintelugufontfullpdf portable