Uh-huh, Fi thought she could set me straight with a blaze. Well, it worked. At least to the extent that I have absolutely no intention of leaving the apartment. I’m taking turns emptying the fridge and dreading the Gendarmerie. I panic at every sound. I keep rejecting Cliff’s calls, and I’ve downed about three litres of orange juice. I look terrible, even by my own standards. Fuck, I’m listening to Miley Cyrus and singing along. Save me, please.
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INTERLUDE – the second in two days
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Kiss Miklos
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