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“Thump, thump, thump, thump!” The sounds of the knife slicing through raw fish before connecting to wooden block below filled the back room of Pier 82.
The weight balance of the knife in her left hand, her right hand bracing the fish on the block, Pam had gone nose blind to the smell of fish guts and blood years ago.
In the distance a tiny tinker bell rings signaling that someone has entered the front of the shop…