Sarah Ziemann

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“I’m hungry.” She huffs, pushing to her feet without verbal complaint, so I hop up and start packing my stuff as she packs hers. “Chinese or Mexican?” I ask, glancing over to her, staring with a deep-set frown. She says nothing, so I repeat myself in case she’s in awe at my invite and needs reassurance she didn’t imagine it. “Chinese or Mexican?” She pulls her bag over her shoulder, turning away. “The list is in your email. Try and look it over before Thursday if you have a chance, okay?” Thursday. This chick pisses me off. I cross my arms, widen my stance, and stare at her. She looks from me ...more
Dirty Curve
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