“Why? Do you think I’m a stoner?” He asked. It was a fetching gown that stretched tightly in a cream colored swath over her breasts and expanded to a full skirt with a petticoat. ‘Ain’t enough as my bed is took, my sheets all bloodied, and my gin took for to waste on that fellow’s wound. Nervously he pulled alongside the dilapidated oncewhite farmhouse.
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