I feel like I'm in an old noir mystery movie. You know, black and white where the smoke rises and covers the femme fatale's face and she's in pin curls and the guy's a private eye in a trench coat sitting behind a desk where the shadows from the blinds cut right across his face. And they say things like "keep your specs on" and "tailing them" and "put the screws to him" and "sing like a canary." I wish my life was this kind of movie.
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