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“When I signal for you, if you don’t mind.” Julie nodded and went to get camera-ready. Helen didn’t need to worry about that; she’s always ready for cameras. Helen had another thought.“Oh, damn! Denise is coming by! When?”Troy checked the time on his phone.“Her bus should be stopping at the highway about now, she’ll bike from there. About twenty minutes.”Helen nodded. It was explained to me later that this is an Anchorage thing. Everything in Anchorage is “twenty minutes away” from everything else. How long will it take you to get from the airport, out past Spenard, to your friend’s place in Muldoon; on the other side of town? Twenty minutes. How long will it take you to run up to the corner store? Twenty minutes. When you spend a good portion of the year waiting for your vehicle to warm up enough to drive, it’s a safe estimate. Anchorage is a city, but everyone thinks of it as “town.” (I wonder if it’s related to the twenty minutes that every pissed-off customer has been waiting.. It was the kind where all the rooms have an indoor corridor or an exclusive entrance. Not at all like those all lined up like books on a shelf with seemly endless straight long hallways like the norm. This hotel was more like mini condominiums, they were separate buildings. Each had four units with full living quarters downstairs and two bedrooms upstairs. As with good hotels, they offer a full hot breakfast. There are some nice restaurants and outlets for other meals. They have an exercise room and a full-size pool.The first time I laid eyes on her was in the hallway, I just came from registering in at the front desk. She was walking down the hallways, maybe going to the office, or I don’t know. She was wearing the traditional black maid’s uniform with a white apron, and all of 5’ 3” tall. I smiled and said hello. She looked surprised, but she said hello back.“Excuse me, miss,” I said, I at least had to try and talk to her.“Are these rooms with kitchenettes?”I knew the answer,.
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The deer gazed down at her with glassy eyes. It made her vaguely uncomfortable so she decided to go out and take some pictures before the light faded. She pulled on her bulky Sorel’s, a warm Canada Goose down jacket, a knitted tuque and her finger-less gloves and stepped outside with her camera around her neck. She walked a little way down the driveway and was about to turn into the woods when she heard someone approaching. ‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you,’ a deep voice said, ‘if you head in there in those boots you’re likely to get stuck in the snow. It’s four, five feet deep in places and the ground is uneven. You’d be better off sticking to the road.’ She turned to see a man standing a few feet away. He was tall and well-built, at least 6’2′, wearing jeans tucked into heavy, studded boots and an old worn plaid flannel jacket. His hands were bare and his shaggy brown hair was tucked most of the way under a blue wool tuque. Underneath the dark scruff that covered his cheeks and.

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