19: You scumbag, you maggot
“It was Christmas Eve, babe…” In the dog house. I was lying low in a coffee house on Bateman Street. Marina’s usually cool persona had become decidedly icy of late, […]
Tag Archives: Coffee
Three
What the fuck is his name? “I’m making pasta. I was going to make risotto, but my flatmate’s used all my Arborio rice. Would you like some?” “What I’d really […]
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