'Cuz, you just know where everyone's mind goes the moment they hear of something like this.
First thing I did was call my mom, to let her know I'm alive. She was raised a pessimistic Irish Catholic. It's natural for her to assume that, despite all reason and sense, I would have somehow been in a stranger's apartment in a high-rise on the opposite side of the island of Manhattan from where I work in the middle of the work day.
It's just the way we're wired, friends.
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