She was stunningly beautiful as always, but there was hardly anything of the girl I’d fallen for showing in the mannequin model version of her standing before me. There was no scorn in her eyes, no wit on her tongue, even her posture was just so fucking rigid, it didn’t seem natural. She was like a painting of herself, all done in perfect proportions but with no life inside her, nothing to say she was anything more than a beautiful decoration designed to be admired and little else. I missed her quick tongue and insults; I wanted her calling me out on having a gold plated bed and a fucking
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