On Cynthia, the mannequin who became a real girl, and the strange love affair between humans and their imitations
∙ Paid
She sat with her back to him, gazing at the commotion beyond—waiters in black suits dashing from table to table beneath a warm electric glow. Smoke rose from her cigarette, casting a haze over her neat curls.
Etiquette suggested that he greet her companion first, so he took Mr. Lester Gaba’s hand firmly in his own and exchanged a few pleasantries. Then, …
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