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Maybe it's because my finger is a little raw, a little pinkish and without the normal layer of dead skin. It's pink and shiny like the top of my head when I stay outside for too long without a hat. Or maybe some transformation has taken place in the hills and valleys of my fingerprint, which I doubt because John Dillinger famously tried to burn off his fingerprints, and failed, and I bet he wasn't a baby about burning himself.
So I still have to enter my password. I'll keep trying every morning until the machine knows who's fingering who.
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