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7 Hungry Office Owl girl always bore shame for mother’s brown grease uniform. Mother told her that entire cities really got managed by cleaning ladies coming in night after night to correct executive mishap in the moonlight. Mops set aside for calculators, they formulate commerce. The only lady to know European markets writes her equations into contracts, seven-armed document maker, the bedrock, floor by floor. It was an ending like she likes: how maids feel when they elbow through the vacuum dust to distribute their wealth over miles of cyclone fence, that their transport will come. All our mothers: blank faces answering doors in movies. ...

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