If you read this, if your eyes are passing over this right now, even if we don't speak often, please post a comment with a memory of you and me. It can be anything you want--good or bad. When you're finished, post this little paragraph on your blog and be surprised (or mortified) about what people remember about you.
A since of panic hit her. She'd been working in her office, one of the boys watching over her son while he played in their room when it just fell over her in a wave. Something was wrong
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Love really wasn't something she thought about, hadn't thought about until she felt her son moving in her stomach. It was strange in over sixteen years she really hadn't let herself feel that particular feeling... that feeling that could leave someone open to betrayal and even death if something went wrong. Yet... yet this little kid who wasn't
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"Relaxing isn't exactly something that I get to do. Okay, relaxing is something that I don't do. I don't have time to relax with all the fucking work that I have to do over the course of a day
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"Why the hell would I take back something I said? Excuse me, but I really don't give a shit what people think of me and if I said something to piss you off, well, that's your fucking problem, now isn't it
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The first time I saw real death I was scared shitless. There was this woman, she used to live across the street from us and she was walking though the street screaming. You could tell she couldn't see what she was going because she kept bumping into things. And there was blood flowing down her face. It looked like it was coming from her nose,
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