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So I’m walking up Broadway today, beautiful afternoon, just Coinstarred some of the spare change I’ve gathered in my Manhattan phase, you know, crossing my t’s. And a few feet ahead an elderly Asian man is sweeping, with rather vigorous strokes, a broom in the doorway of a liquor store. And just as I’m about to pass him, he gives one final, violent sweep and something small and brown flies past my legs, brushing my kneecaps, and lands several feet away in the gutter. I turn, and there is a rat, stunned, its thick pink tail curled tightly around his body. I turn back to Little Mister Sweeper, and he looks back at me with wide eyes and cups a hand over his mouth. He looks both horrified and, well, amused.

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