But she did not speak. Lucy had snuck in the back door by the kitchen and Sheila was ready for her, standing between the stove 124 and the refrigerator. The flu attacked my reproductive organs and caused me to expel my 194 female parts. Her foster father, Larry, was the hard working son-of-a-bitch type with a disdain for suits. Her acrid rose perfume oil that hung in the air that smelled like a head shop, her V. It was hard to part with romance, but she had never thirsted so keenly to go on with her University work in her life as she did that day.
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