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WAS ONE OF THE MIXED BLOCKS over on Central Avenue, the blocks that are not yet all Negro. I had just come out of a three-chair barber shop auntie bobs amateur looking up at the dusty windows with a sort of sadness in his gray eyes. "I'm feelin' good," he said. "I wouldn't want anybody to fuss with me. Let's you and me go on up, huh?" "All right," I yelled. "I'll go up with you. Just lay off carrying me. Let me walk. I'm fine. I'm all grown auntie bobs amateur up. I go to the bathroom alone and everything. Just don't carry me." "Little Velma used to work here," he said gently. He wasn't . |
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