The Angle

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In lieu of an abstract, below is the essay's first paragraph.

"We entered the oak double doors and I asked the host for a table in back. I held Marcela's arm and walked her to the table. I pulled out her chair and she smiled sweetly. Her black hair was twirled into a loose bun and her olive skin glowed in the candlelight. She folded her hands and rested them on the checkerboard table. The smell of the oil lamp was faint and a symphony by Mozart played softly."

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