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This is not a Story About Andrew
We were having a party for ... hell, I forget who or what. It was a chance for our little crowd to dance a little, drink a little, talk a lot. A chance to drive back the encroaching solstice with noise & human warmth. As usual, Andrew arrived late, this time with a girl I didn't know. After they'd deposited their coats on the front porch, he led her over to me. "Molly, this is Vinnie, the host organism." Molly briefly squeezed my hand with her cold fingers, and her eyes lit up as she...