“Okay, bud. It’s time to get out of this bed, take a shower, and get your ass to the studio. I took your Slice, Slice, Baby apron to the dry cleaners yesterday, so if we can just wash the feelings off of you, you might not look as depressed as you feel. Then when you get home, we can order a pizza from every good place in town and make a pizza flight. We’ll talk about your feelings and get you in with a therapist back home first thing in the morning.” “I never said you could plan my life,” I told him as I dug myself out from the pile of decorative throw pillows that I’d used to shield my body
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