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A blade. A dollar bill. A single baggie of coke.
The simple mantra to never get high off his supply became a struggle each time he stuffed another skeleton into his cramped internal closet.
His interest had piqued further after she conned him and his folks into her apartment just to pull out a gun on Pierre for whooping her nephew’s ass. Her tune didn’t change at the bribery of materialistic shit either, unlike every other woman he’d persuaded under those pretenses.

