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There’s blood all over the door. All over the door and all over the glass windows. The entire entrance to her store is soaked in dried crimson.
“You just camp yourself outside the news station until he comes out,” she says, rubbing her palm over her chest. “Girls do that all the time. Nothing wrong with it. How else are you supposed to find yourself a husband?”
lmao
As long as they don’t ever cross me again.
