The Room-Personal Narrative

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I opened the door and took a step into the dense, populated air and let the spring whip it back into place with a crash. Before, the music was muffled and the cheers from the crowd hidden behind a thick layer of insulated wall. Even then the man I had been talking to had to yell over the noise to identify the perpatrator, every word sending another bunch of his spit flying into my ear. The room I had entered was filled with people identical to the one he had described: loud, full of alcohol, and stinking like human. I scanned the room, but instead of looking, I listened. The one piece of information the informant had given me to distinguish my suspect were the sounds of his squishy rubber boots as he slithered around the room. It was unmistakable,

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