Stephanie Munguia

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I’m putting on someone’s boxer-briefs. Smells clean, otherwise I’d rather stay naked. They throw my clothes in the sink. Instead of running the faucet, they squirt lighter fluid on my oldest shirt. I watch them torch the Van Halen tee, and I feel nothing. Absolutely nothing. She’s all that matters to me.
Unlucky Like Us (Like Us, #12)
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