as he sat behind the table, it was the stroke of the inevitable. the papers spread out in a flourish, each one signed to feed the nourish. she stood beside him, calm and still, watching the room bend to his will. with every pen stroke, he sealed a deal, a leaders mark with steely zeal. donny, are you okay? "so, donny, are you okay? are you okay, donny?" donny, are you okay? "so, donny, are you okay? are you okay, donny?"
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