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| | Moonlight Sonata by Jerry Seeger; Literary fiction, cover story |
 | | He was a creature of the night, of last call and dark secrets, and he had come up to the light. |
 | | His right hand, I realized, was playing, quite of its own accord, Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata, his fingers brushing the table with gentle assurance, the tendons standing out on the back of his hand. |
 | | I had heard it many times before, but now it was as if Beethoven himself was playing it. |
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