If you read this, if your eyes are passing over this right now, (even if we don't speak often or ever) please post a comment with a COMPLETELY MADE UP AND FICTIONAL memory of you and me
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I walked into my kitchen one day, and you were eating my cheese. I hadn't let you in. You told me my cheese was crap and I should have gotten /fancy pants cheese/ instead. I put my face in my hand. When I looked up, you had disappeared. The front door had not opened.
Remember that time I gave you that fantastic blowjob in the girls' toilets? And how Mr Charlton, the history teacher who never tucked in the label at the back of his shirt, found us, and leered? Good times.
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Vegas, BABY!
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