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Matchmaker
“Monica.” The sound of her name caused Monica Doyle to look up from the envelopes she’d just removed from the mailbox and glance past the open vestibule door into the hallway beyond. The twenty-four year old smiled when she saw the white haired septuagenarian stepping out of the front apartment, but delayed a response until the woman closed and locked her door, taking those few moments to lock her mailbox as well. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Pulaski,” Monica said as the woman turned back in her...