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When I lived in the U.K. in the early 1990s, I worked for a newspaper in the art department. The person whose job I took, Therese, had married an American and moved to South Carolina in the States. I wasn’t able to meet her before she moved overseas.
A few years later, I moved to Charleston, South Carolina, to a condominium complex. I had a neighbor there across the street named Therese. I hadn’t met her, but I had heard she was British. I knocked on the door to introduce myself and explained that I may have worked where she did in the UK. She confirmed that she was the Therese from my old job two years previous. Not only that, she told me that she had lived on the same road, in the same town, where I had lived in the U.K.
We determined that she lived across the street from me in the U.K. — we just didn’t know each other. Our living room windows looked out at each other’s homes in two different countries.
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