The night air had a thick softness and the smell of stale smoke from the factories that had been busy in the day, and the smell of cheap whiskey and dead cigarettes and Philadelphia springtime.
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As matters stood life offered very little aside from an occasional plunge into luxurious sensation which never lasted for long, and even while it happened it was accompanied by the dismal knowledge that it would soon be over.
David Goodis
The Burglar
1953
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