The Angle

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

"At two o'clock on a Sunday morning, no one in their right mind would be sitting on the remainder of a sordid, disco-era recliner, casting sideways glances to four unfamiliar walls, each adorned with outdated college paraphernalia, subconsciously fighting the bitter March air that, without invitation, has ventured under the door and through the cracks of a drafty, filthy, nearly condemned apartment. Yet, here I am, in my left mind apparently. I'm slouched voluntarily in my uneasy chair, balancing on a rusty spring. . . waiting for him."

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