PEST

 


He used to call me ‘pet’, buy me flowers, send me funny, sexy text messages and selfies of himself, fresh and steaming from the shower. I cooked his meals, bought his clothes and taught him the difference between fashion and style. Then the rows, the split. Now I’m a pest.


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Published on July 29, 2017 07:58
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Postcard from a Pigeon

Dermott Hayes
Musings and writings of Dermott Hayes, Author
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