“Did you take out all the money again?” I asked Jeb as he came through the kitchen door. “Forgot to tell ya, had an emergency,” my no-good, drifter, drug-dealing boyfriend of 6 years slid a hand up in my blouse. I stiffened, “This is so depressing.” I really needed to pay off the clinic, wasn’t ever going to get a child into this hell. “Your fancy-ass salary makes you chase happiness all the time. Admit that life is hell and be free,” he laughed. I picked up the biggest knife from the block, “you’re right, I admit,” and plunged in.
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"Classic"
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