.........but I was looking at him and I. My head turned, I was looking at the girl next to the girl that I has insulted earlier. My mouth was talking,...speaking about my sick mother, my mother was not sick, but the voice that came from my mouth, continued speaking about a family that was not mine. A hand, my hand, brushed long blond hair away from my face as the voice that was not mine carried on talking. It was as if I was looking out through the eyes of the black miniskirted girl, I must have. I resolved that she would always wear dresses.I made us a large breakfast and she must have been famished. She matched me forkful for forkful. She insisted on doing the dishes and stood on a step-stool. I had to go into the other room because every time she bent over the sink her dress would ride up and expose her in a way that embarrassed me.I let her wear a pair of my beach sandals. She looked like she was walking in snow shoes. She followed me around the place all day. I raise figs for. More

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