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Bella

One of the ladies in coveralls shoos Bella into the elevator. “Come on,” she says, “won’t take a second.”

They stop on every floor; one lady slaps door open while the other peers between car and wall. “Don’t think so,” she’ll say, or “nope, next one.” Bella and the guy from six share “So! Yeah!” grins.

“It’s up on four,” says the peering lady finally, with satisfaction. “Yeah. Drop these folks off at the lobby.”

Bella looks back to see them strapping on backpacks with hoses. One of them stomps down, and a little box pops upen, striped yellow and black.

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