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The humidity in Grant Park felt like a breach of contract, a heavy, suffocating weight that made every inch of skin feel litigious and over-sensitized.
He was vibrating with the kind of repressed energy you usually only see in a junior associate who’s just realized they missed a filing deadline.
The way she unzips that dress is a procedural nightmare, a slow-motion violation of every ethics seminar I’ve sat through since the Bar.
My pulse was doing the same frantic dance it did during the 2008 Lehman collapse, all high-stakes panic and impending ruin.