Francisco touched the smooth surface of the drive, a calculated decision reflected in his steady gaze.
The act of concealing the pen drive within the book spoke volumes about its significance. Francisco's meticulous gesture suggested a level of secrecy that demanded reverence. The black drive held not only data but a concealed narrative, a tale of clandestine dealings and veiled truths.
He connected the drive to his laptop. Francisco leaned against the chair, the tendrils of smoke from his cigarette dancing in the air. His gaze, steady and contemplative, remained fixated on the laptop as data began to transfer.
The pen drive served as a single piece of evidence.
Once the information was extracted, Francisco carefully returned the pen drive to its concealed spot within the book.
His bedroom, akin to his office, boasted two expansive bookshelves. Each shelf held the weight of countless narratives, both literary and clandestine.
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