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"Is that too tight?" I asked. Sandra tried to move her wrists and was satisfied that she still had circulation, "No, no, that's fine." "Alright then, let's go, we've got a lot of miles to cover and I'd like to get on the road." I firmly griped her upper arm and escorted her to my Ford Bronco outside. She hesitated at the door of her tiny apartment and held the cuffs up, "the neighbors." I took a jean jacket she had hanging on a coat tree and draped it over her cuffed wrists.

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