She oozed closer. She was butter melting. She was cheese bubbling. She was bread browned by grill glowed by flame and her soft tortilla shell was tearing at the edges. She was ripping at the seams and pouring out in great gasps of yellow semi-solid dairy. We tried like little dutch boys to keep her together to no avail. She was flapping her
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and nice reading you, as well.
cease the guilt ride. you got things good and good things got you.
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