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I finally gave in and went back to visit Mom. One weekend she dragged me with her to the mall. While we browsed, a guy I'd dated in high school recognized me and came up to say hi.
I shrieked like a banshee.
I'd imagined him tortured, mangled, and dead so many times that I'd come to believe it.
Too fucking complex to explain, so I just told Mom and him I got a cramp.
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"Asking a bomb squad if an old bomb is still "real" is not the best thing to do if you want to save it." - denim
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