Katherine Schleede

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If we were in the campus kitchen, I’d assume the shooting pain in my chest was from a fork pressed into my chest. But no. I leaned my head into my palm to stop the swaying and prepare myself in case this was some early-on heart attack. I’d sure provide a doctor with quite a bit of entertainment. The cause of the attack, you ask? Best friend fancies the woman I’m dreaming about.
Don't Be In Love
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