I should be sleeping off the effects of last evening's debauchery. (I think that much trifle earns one a food coma, nevermind the Oatmeal Stout and Irish Coffee). And I would be blissfully passed out here in the guest bedroom but for one thing: the deeply primal sense that warns of being stared at.
Generations of soft living may have bred it out of
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Comments 7
Happy New Year, indeed!
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~j
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There are worse ways to go.
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~j
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~j
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*cuddles*
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