Lean on Me
Copyright© 2025 by Danny January
Chapter 3
Romance Sex Story: Chapter 3 - The continuing chronicles of Jack Pierce. Autumn of 1982. The chronicles, in order are: 1. Feasting with a Silver Spoon 2. Summertime and the Livin' is Easy 3. Something Fishy Going On 4. Centerfield 5. Tourist Season 6. Lean on Me They are progressive and not meant to be stand-alone stories.
Caution: This Romance Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/ft Consensual Heterosexual Fiction
Early Saturday morning, I picked up Mr. McTighe for another dose of racquetball humiliation. Kim planned to spend the day with Mel and Susan Simpson. Kim and Susan had been best friends until Susan moved, and recently, Kim realized she missed her company.
Mr. McTighe taught me a few drills for both forehand and backhand, then taught me some serves. He’d shown me all that before, but this time, I had a good understanding of the value and really worked at it. When our hour was up, no one was waiting for the court, apparently, a rarity. We played a game. I almost got him to break a sweat, but not quite. He complimented me on my quick progress. I thought he was being generous.
“Aquaman, you have a superpower,” he said on the drive home.
“I do?” News to me.
“Maybe you think it’s swimming, or baseball, but that’s not it. You have a super ability to learn new things and incorporate them into your life.”
“I hardly think...”
“Hear me out. There are millions, even tens of millions of students in America today, and hundreds of millions worldwide. Hopefully, the vast majority of them are learning something. You’re different. You recognize principles and have the intuitive ability to relate those principles to either things you already know or things you plan to do with them. Kim does too, to an extent, but not like you.
“I don’t know anyone else, and I’m being serious, who learns as quickly and effectively as you do. You recognize your strengths and weaknesses and devise strategies to maximize your strengths and overcome your weaknesses. You’ve been doing that for so long, I don’t even think you realize you’re doing it.”
“It sounds like I’m cheating,” I said, not sure what to do with all that.
“Kim said you planned to move forward with the tutoring idea, and she said why. She said you told her it would be practice for when you had your own kids. Now that you’ve figured out the relationship of the practice to your personal life, I have no doubt that you’ll excel at it. Until you saw that connection, you were hesitant, right?”
“Yes, sir, I guess that’s pretty much true.”
“And now, you’ll give those kids your best. It comes back to one of your quotes. One of Thoreau’s quotes, actually. ‘The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation’ is something you want to avoid like the plague.”
“That’s a fact. I kind of like what Hemingway said, too. ‘Nobody ever lives their life all the way up except bullfighters.’ I don’t want to be a bullfighter, but I get the idea.”
“Hemingway lived life all the way up. He also committed suicide. He’d probably had a half dozen concussions, been in two plane crashes which left him with burns over a large part of his body, a ruptured spleen, broken bones, and a dislocated shoulder. There’s a price for living life all the way up.”
We were quiet for a while after that. “Do you think he was just unlucky or what?”
“I think he was motivated by a desire to live life all the way up, and wanted to die without regrets. Suicide is a strange animal. No one ever really knows why another individual chooses to kill themselves. Did he die without regrets? Nobody knows.”
“Do you have any?” I asked.
“Oh, good lord. Too many to count. ‘I’d rather regret the things I’ve done than regret the things I haven’t done.’ I think that’s pretty good advice. You’ll never guess who said that.”
“No idea. I like it, but I have no idea. Whoever it was, probably liked Hemingway.”
“Not sure about that. I know she’s a reader. Lucille Ball.”
“I Love Lucy, Lucy?”
“One and the same. Truth is truth, wherever you find it.”
I pulled into the driveway, and Mr. McTighe grabbed his bag from the backseat, thanked me for the ride, and stretched. Kim was at the other end of the driveway with Mel and Susan, getting ready to go. I didn’t want to interrupt. Kim gave me a strange wave; I returned it and backed down the driveway.
I was halfway home when I saw her car behind me. She held one arm out the window and made a circling motion with one finger. I returned it. When she made an I’m-pulling-you-over pushing motion, I pulled over and got out. She ran up to me.
“That was my police siren,” she said, and I laughed. “I’m so sorry.”
“I missed something. Why are you sorry? For what?”
“Yesterday,” she said, putting her hands on my shoulders.
“Um, yesterday was pretty nice.”
“Well, I’m glad you think so, but that wasn’t love. That was, I don’t know, ownership, and I was wrong.”
“Oh, man. I didn’t...” she cut me off.
“Let me finish. That was like me trying to prove something to you, and it was something you never asked me to prove. Here you were at lunch, having some innocent fun, and I got my nose out of joint.”
“So, you fucked me silly to prove a point?”
“Yes.”
“You proved it. But you definitely don’t need to apologize.”
She huffed. “Yes, I do. Just say you accept my apology.”
“I accept your apology.”
“Thank you.”
“I’d kind of like to be fucked silly again, though,” I said, and she laughed.
“You’re such a dufus. I don’t know why I love you. My parents are going to Beaufort for some art thing tomorrow. I think they’re leaving at ten. Come over after that and I’ll fuck you silly again, but this time I’ll do it lovingly.”
“I have a boner,” I said, and she rolled her eyes out loud, laughed, and went back to her car.
Oh, goody. I couldn’t think of anything better than to be lovingly fucked silly by Kim Frontier Woman McTighe. I watched her walk. I really did have a boner. I was the luckiest guy in the world.
When I got home, I went for a swim, tethering myself to the diving board support. I swam for about a half hour, then sat in a lounge chair to read my physics book. I woke up when Mom tossed a novel on my lap.
“Take a break. Read something fun for a change. All you’ve been reading are textbooks.”
“What’s this?” I asked, looking at what was obviously a book.
“Gorky Park. It’s a spy novel. Fun. Lunch is ready. It’s been ready.”
I grabbed Gorky Park and walked inside. Dane and Dr. Legare finished up a game of pool and sat across from me in the kitchen. Hmmm.
“Eat, eat,” Dr. Legare said. “I was in a bit of a hurry last time with Dart, trying to get all his initial interviews done,” he said with that slow, deep, melodic voice that I could have listened to for hours. “I have a few questions. Just curious. Not part of a study or anything.”
“Always learning, huh, Doc?”
“When you stop learning, you start dying. Some famous guy said that. Maybe it was Lucille Ball.”
“Been talking to Mr. McTighe, huh?” He smiled. We both knew it was Einstein who said that.
“Yes, while you were wasting your time reading about physics,” he answered, and that was pretty funny.
“You usually have the answers, so if I can return the favor, I’m game. I’m not sure what I would know that you wouldn’t, though.”
“Have you ever heard of The Western States Endurance Run?” I shook my head.
“Hank, do not get my son involved in something crazy like I think you’re about to,” Mom said.
“No, no. On the contrary, I’d advise against this lunacy. I’ve been asked to be on the board of directors for it.”
“They want free advice,” Dane said. “And since it is lunacy, they couldn’t think of anyone better to ask.”
“Goes without saying. Some history. In 1955, a half dozen cowboys rode a hundred miles in a day. Years later, 1972, I think, a dozen or so soldiers decided to do it on foot, following the same trail. Most of them didn’t finish, but a few did. Last year, over 80 people finished running it in under 24 hours, an amazing feat. They had two dozen aid stations and probably a hundred volunteers. With the Hawaiian Ironman and The Western States Endurance Run both growing in popularity and size, more ultra-endurance events are bound to spring up.
“Jack, I’m not a runner. I’m not built for it and have no desire to do so. I ride a bicycle, either stationary in bad weather or outdoors, but rarely more than sixty minutes at a time. It’s a good workout and low impact. It’s gentle on my joints. You, however, have swum five miles straight, run thirteen miles or more on several occasions, and completed a half Ironman distance race. I need an endurance athlete’s perspective.”
“And I win the prize.”
“You win the prize.” For the next hour, Dr. Legare asked me questions about training, perceived levels of exertion, water and electrolyte intake, soreness, recovery times, and more.
“Alright, that’s a lot of good information. Obviously, a five-hour race isn’t the same as a twenty-four-hour race, but it’s a start. What am I missing? What didn’t I ask about that I should have? If you were going to run something crazy like this, what would you want me to know?”
I thought about that. Twenty-four hours of racing was just crazy. “I think the guys who have already done it would probably be better than me. But a couple of things come to mind. I rode fifty-six miles, and my feet hurt. My shoes were tight and I got a couple of small blisters. I bet the guys who do this race will have that kind of problem, no matter how good their shoes are.
“Is the course flat, or rocky? If it was a horse trail, it’s probably a fun trail to ride but a tough one to run. I could run a lot of twelve-minute miles on smooth ground in the daytime, but if I had to do half those miles at night, with rocky terrain, I’d want a good light. If there were dangerous parts of the trail, a warning sign would be nice. Gatorade, porta johns, and Band-Aids for blisters would all be helpful, I think. I’d want to see a map of where I was at each aid station. You know, a you-are-here kind of thing.
“Can runners preposition stuff? Could they put a second pair of shoes at the halfway point? What about a sweatshirt? If the course is in the mountains, I bet it gets pretty cool at night. It would be nice if you could grab a sweatshirt. If you’ve been sweating all day and the temperature drops at night, it would probably be pretty miserable. I have no idea about how much change there would be in the mountains, if that’s where it is.”
“All good ideas, Jack.”
“I bet you already thought of all that,” I said, and he smiled.
“Some. Not all, young man. Prepositioning shoes and perhaps a sweatshirt could be a game changer.”
“Hank, if that’s what I think it is, put it away or be banished forever,” Mom said as he pulled a piece of paper out of his briefcase. I couldn’t remember seeing him with a briefcase before.
“It’s exactly what you think it is, but not for the reason you think. Jack, would you consider running a one-hundred-mile race?”
“No. That’s nuts.”
“See?” he said to Mom. “He’s not crazy. What’s missing? What should we be asking that we’re not?” he asked, placing the application in front of me.
I looked over a very detailed application form. It was really detailed. I tried to think what they could possibly ask that wasn’t already on the form.
“I don’t see blood type or next of kin listed,” I said, only half kidding. He pointed to the form and, sure enough, it asked for blood type and who should be contacted in an emergency. “Therapist or maybe psychologist? Maybe it could have a block for them to answer the question, ‘What in the world are you thinking?’ or maybe, ‘What are you trying to prove?’ How many people are going to do this next year?”
“Perhaps as many as three hundred. You’re going to see more of this ultra-marathon business, I’m telling you. It will be a boon to doctors who treat plantar fasciitis, Achilles tendinitis, stress fractures, and more. Just because you can do something doesn’t mean you should. I’m happy that you no longer box, by the way. Timex is a good teacher, and he protects his students, but it is an inherently dangerous pastime.”
“I came to the same conclusion. There’s a match coming up in November that should be good. I don’t know if it’s on TV or not.”
“Aaron Pryor vs. Alexis Arguello,” Dane said. “That should be a great fight.”
“Who are they?” Mom asked.
“Arguello is one of the greatest fighters of my lifetime. He has held titles at three different weight divisions, moving up each time. He is undefeated in title defenses. I think Pryor might be too much for him, though,” Dr. Legare said.
“Still going to be a good fight. Pryor was going to fight Sugar Ray Leonard. I’m not sure if that would have been as good a fight,” Dane said. I had no idea he followed boxing.
“Thomas Hearns, Roberto Duran, Sugar Ray, and these two are all going to end up in the boxing hall of fame. Very competitive and I think the fans realize that.”
“Okay, I think you both know more about boxers than I do. Can I learn something by watching?” I asked. “I mean, I know I can learn something, but I don’t know what.”
“They are both very businesslike,” Dr. Legare said. Muhammad Ali was a bigmouth. He was bombastic, but he backed it up. You won’t hear any of that before this match. Arguello is a very classy fighter. Both of them are relentless, like sharks. When they taste blood, they go for the kill.”
“Pryor rose pretty quickly,” Dane added. “This would be Arguello’s fourth title. I think he’s the pound-for-pound best fighter of the decade.”
“I wouldn’t argue with that.”
“I guess I need to plan on watching the fight,” I said.
“The three of you can enjoy it together. Watching two men try to beat each other’s brains out is not my kind of entertainment,” Mom said, and we all answered with what we thought were caveman grunts. She poo-pooed us and left the room. Dr. Legare thanked me for my time and input, and the two of them left, as well.
Monday was a great day. The best. No more soccer. Instead, I was at the pool with five new swimmers. Billy Sears, Vic Perlman, and Brian Gibbes were freshmen I had worked with briefly the previous year. Trey Portman was a junior who had transferred from St. Andrews, the closest public high school. Paulie Fenster was a sophomore who had transferred from our crosstown rival, Bishop England. We had lost two really good swimmers in Ryan McCarthy and Bobby Claire, and we had five new swimmers. None of them would replace Bobby.
They were already poolside when I walked out, and they each put their hands over their heads and bowed down in a we’re-not-worthy manner. It was kind of funny. Coach Miller sat in the bleachers, grading papers on a kickboard in front of him.
“Hey. Coach asked me to work with you guys this week. I could jump in and say a bunch of stuff before we start, but let’s find out if you guys can swim first. Each of you pick a lane and we’ll go one at a time. I want to see you swim each stroke. I’m not looking for speed. I just want to see where we’re starting from.”
I had them each swim a lap of freestyle, then back, breast, and finally butterfly. At first, I thought I should have brought out a notepad, but I wouldn’t have needed it. As the last of them finished, I looked over at Coach Miller. As soon as I did, he looked back down at his papers, pretending he hadn’t seen anything.
“No one drowned, and that’s a good start. We could do this a bunch of different ways, but here’s what I want to do. I’ll swim one length of each stroke, then let one of you swim that same stroke. When he’s finished, the other four of you can tell him the three most important things he should work on. If you happen to see three things I can work on, I will.”
We worked through freestyle, giving each of them a chance to swim, hear the critiques, and swim again. The three freshmen had a lot to work on, but they seemed eager to try. Trey and Paulie were both a lot better, and they understood the drill. When one of the freshmen asked why I wasn’t doing the critiquing, Paulie said, “We’re supposed to be a team. We help each other. Plus, it makes us think about our own technique.” He was exactly right. I looked at Coach Miller, and this time, he was smiling.
“Good job, Aquaman,” Coach said when the two of us were left alone in the bleachers as the five newbies went inside. “As a matter of fact, that was a very good first day. You identified a bunch of areas for them to work on, perhaps a couple of strengths, and perhaps a leader in the group. Not bad at all.”
“There’s definitely plenty of room for improvement. I don’t know how you do it year after year.”
“Usually, I get some chump to take care of the first lessons for me.”
“Thanks, Coach,” I said, and we laughed.
“I should have filmed it. In four years, Mr. Gibbes and I will be having the same conversation.”
“I sucked, didn’t I?”
“Yup. But you improved quickly, just like some of these young men will. You can try to guess which will rise to the top, but it’s difficult. There’s only been one person that I knew would excel from day one.”
“Birch.”
“Birch.”
“I haven’t talked to him in a long time,” I said.
“Spoke with him yesterday. Everyone out west has Olympic fever. Some of the top swimmers will be invited to train in Colorado Springs this summer. He’s probably on the short list. Their athletic department has two full-time videographers on staff. They analyze everything.”
“No pressure.”
“Nothing but pressure. If you talk to him, try to be encouraging. There’s a breaststroker out of SMU who seems unbeatable. The kid has won every race he’s entered since ‘79 and set the world record at seventeen. Birch doesn’t think anyone can touch him.”
“Do you think he’s right?”
“He probably knows better than me. But Bobby improved his backstroke last year because you were chasing him.”
“And he was chasing me with his freestyle.”
“Might want to share that with our newbies. McClusky wants you to drop by before you leave. Scoot.”
I changed into regular gym clothes and found Kim already waiting outside Mr. McClusky’s office. His secretary beeped him, and he opened the door and called us in, where he motioned for us to have a seat. He handed a card to Kim.
“Miss Erica Del Monico is the interim director. She said she’d love to have some help with the kids, especially with math and English. She was rushed, so I gave her the short version.”
“That was fast. Thank you, sir,” Kim said.
“You might want to hold off on the thanks. She said they currently have a lot of early teens with tough backgrounds and a lot of catching up to do, academically. Poor grades and bad attitudes seemed to be the recurring theme. That’s the bad news. The good news is that it sounds like it would be tough to screw it up worse than it is. Give her a call.”
“I need puppy time,” Kim said when we got to my car. I knew exactly what she meant. Instead, we had an inspired workout session. We had some sort of mystery anger and frustration to burn off, and we pitted it against the weights. Mom tried to keep up. Finally, Kim told her what was on our minds.
“Dive in. Go call. Make a difference. You can’t change anything by lifting weights. Go lift kids. Make a phone call. Make an appointment.”
She was right. We went to the kitchen, and Kim pulled out the card. “I’ll call,” Kim said. I nodded, and she dialed the number. After getting a busy signal several times, she finally got through. I heard half the conversation. It was rushed, and Kim didn’t do much talking. At one point, she looked at me and mouthed “Seven?” I assumed that she wanted to go that night. I nodded, and we had a date.
Kim called home, we had a quiet dinner, then dressed for our trip to the center. After a bit of discussion, we decided to take Mac with us. I loaded a small kennel into the backseat and we took off for North Charleston. Mac was curled up in his kennel, and traffic was unusually light.
We left Mac sleeping in his kennel while we looked for the office. We were barely inside when Miss Del Monico intercepted us. “Are you Kim?”
“Yes,’ Ma’am, and this is Jack.”
“You don’t know how happy I am to see you. Follow me.” Miss Del Monico was probably thirty-five and looked slightly athletic. She spoke quickly and was all business. I couldn’t figure out where she was from, but she wasn’t a Yankee, and she wasn’t a local. We followed her a short distance down a hall to a small cafeteria. A cleaning crew was finishing up, and the room looked clean and bright. We sat across from each other at one of the tables.
“Tell me what you’re prepared to do. Or, better, let me tell you what we need. You both go to Porter-Gaud, and that’s a college prep school. Mr. McClusky said you were both academic all-stars and want to help our kids have a chance at success.” We nodded, and she continued. “Our kids are twelve to seventeen. We have house parents, but they have their hands full, so ... we could definitely use some help with their academics. How often were you thinking about helping us?”
“How often would you need us?”
“Oh, honey, we could use a dozen tutors, seven days a week from, oh, say, seven to nine each night.” We all laughed, knowing that wasn’t going to happen. “I’ll tell you what, we have students that could use some help tonight. Why don’t we send some your way, tutor for an hour or two if you can stand it, then talk about it and decide what you want to do.”
“We can do that,” Kim said. “A friend of ours who works with foster children said an ice breaker might be good.”
“What do you have in mind?”
Kim smiled her amazing smile and told her, “We have a puppy with us.”
“Oh, my word. Definitely. Go get him or her, and I’ll round up a couple of kids.”
A few minutes later, Kim was sitting on the floor with Mac when Miss Del Monico and another woman ushered four girls into the room. They seemed shy and hesitant, right up until they saw Mac. They came running.
Mac didn’t care if their parents did drugs, were in jail, or had abandoned them. Mac didn’t care if their parents had beaten them. Mac didn’t even care how many homes they’d been in. They had fingers to chew on. Mac had a field day.
Kim broke the ice with a girl named Emily, finding out that she was in sixth grade and was having trouble with math. Once she had shared with us, the dam burst, and the other girls told us about the challenges they were having in school.
“Do you like Mac?” I asked, and they all nodded like bobbleheads on opening day. “We’d like to help you understand your homework and do better in school. If we can do that for a little while tonight, maybe we can bring Mac with us when we come back next week. How does that sound?” It was a winning strategy, and Miss Del Monico seemed more than a little pleased.
Kim worked with two girls on English and history, while I worked with the other two on math and science. Then we traded places and did it again. We finished the evening by giving them another chance to play with Mac.
“We used to have a dog, but I don’t remember which home that was in,” one girl said, and it was all I could do to keep from crying. At nine, one of the house parents came to get the girls. They didn’t want to leave, but the house parent reminded them that this was optional time, and they knew what that meant. They could lose the chance if they abused it. At least that’s what I thought it meant.
“Mac was a hit, and so were the two of you. We’d love to have you back any time you can make it.”
“Mac was a suggestion from our foster parent friends in California. Should we try to bring friends?”
“Definitely. I need to share a few policies with you before you go. I was with you the whole time and might not be able to do that next time. We have a couple of policies you need to abide by. Side hugs are okay. Front hugs are not. Sitting on your lap or piggyback rides aren’t allowed. A hand on the back is fine. A hand on a knee is okay for Kim, but not for you, and a hand on a thigh is not okay for either of you. I see the questions on your faces. Some of our children have been sexually abused.
“In some of their little minds, the narrative is, ‘do you like me? Do you love me? Do you want to have sex with me?’ We work hard not to do anything that would appear to be grooming. We don’t always know which children have been victims. We’re very careful. They need to be able to trust you. You’re too young for background checks, but if you were eighteen, we’d have to do that.”
“Wow. That’s a lot to process,” I said.
“For you, it might be a couple of hours a week. For them, and for us, it’s a way of life. They need what the two of you offer, normalcy.”
She thanked us again and walked us to the door. We promised to come back and said we’d try to figure out a schedule. Kim and I stood in the parking lot and just held each other for a long time.
“I can’t remember which home that was in. I can’t even imagine,” I said. Kim shook her head, and we drove home in silence until we got to Kim’s driveway.
“Do you know what?” she asked. “I think them getting to spend time with us, and especially Mac, might have been the highlight of their week.” I agreed.
We sat quietly in their den, just thinking about the evening. Our school day was the furthest thing from our minds. Swimming, lifting, our own homework, the new kids we had met, and new classmates in each of our classes; none of those things were on our minds. The only thing on our minds was four girls and maybe Mac.
“Hey. You two are in a different world. What’s going on?” Mrs. McTighe asked. Kim told her. She explained it for thirty minutes.
When she finished, I added, “Words just can’t explain it.” She nodded and asked if she could do anything.
“I’m going to call Fallon.”
“And Michael?” I asked.
“Him, too,” she laughed.
The two of them talked for ten minutes or so, and then they both put it on speakerphone so Michael and I could join the conversation. Kim told them what a great idea bringing Mac had been. The two of them listened while Kim described our experience.
“No going back,” Michael said. “Like Alice falling down the rabbit hole, you’ve entered a different reality. You can come back, but you’ve been forever changed.”
It was quiet for a moment, and then Fallon came on. “We saved the best for last. Right now, the two of you are seeing a whole new reality. It’s been real for these precious children, and it’s the only reality they’ve ever known. Now, you’re a part of it. Here’s the good part, and this is a really good part. They are desperate for love and acceptance, and they will respond to it. When you go back, don’t be surprised if they don’t run to greet you. A little bit of your love will be like water to a thirsty man, and it’s the greatest thing in the world.”
After that, none of us had much more to say. Both Kim and I had homework, and it was late. We held each other for a few minutes, enjoying the love we shared, then I went home so we could both try to do homework and be ready for the next day. I was halfway home before I remembered Mac was still at Kim’s house. I didn’t think she’d mind, until she woke up the next morning and discovered he had chewed up something important. Kim was standing in the driveway, holding him in her arms as he struggled to lick her nose.
Back home, I set Mac down so he could race for the kitchen. I followed at a less frantic pace. “How did it go?” Mom asked as she poured some sort of flour into a different container.
“Okay.”
She stopped. “That’s it? Okay?”
“Ask me again tomorrow, after I have a chance to think about it. Or maybe next month.”
“Ah, like that. Hungry?”
“No. Not really.” She stopped again, looked at me with her eyebrows in that ‘do-tell’ fashion, but didn’t press it.
I went back to my office and worked on homework. I got the bare minimum done and hit the sack. I’d like to say that I slept like a log, but to be honest, I’m not sure if I slept at all.
I picked Kim up the next morning. Neither of us spoke. Then, both of us spoke at the same time. Three times, then we pointed at each other for the other to speak and laughed again. “We’ll be doing this when we’re forty,” Kim said. I hoped we’d be doing it when we were eighty.
“I need time to process. Let’s keep this to ourselves for now,” I said.
“We should let Mr. McClusky know,” Kim said, and I agreed.
At lunch, Kim and I sat across from each other, just like we usually did. Instead of joining in the conversation, we just listened. Mel noticed, but she didn’t say anything. When the period was over, I put a hand on Kim’s forearm so she would stay for a minute.
“We have to figure this out. I want to help, but I don’t know. I don’t even know how to say what I’m thinking.”
“No kidding.”
That afternoon, I stepped into Coach Miller’s office before going out to the pool. He got up to walk out with me. “What’s on your mind?”
“Kim and I went to the orphanage last night to work with some kids, tutoring them, mostly in math and English, and it’s sort of got us tore up.”
“I can understand that. Go on.”
“Well, I think we want to keep doing it, but after last night, it’s tough to concentrate on anything else.”
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