“You’re not one of those college snobs, are you?” he asked.
I probably should have said “No,” rather than “Not presently.”
“What did you study?” he asked. “Bank robbing?”
“Excuse me?”
“Your clothes,” he said. “You and that lady downstairs look like those people from ‘Bonnie and Clyde,’ not the stars but the other ones. The ones who fuck everything up.”
“Yes, well, we’re individuals.”
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