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Chapter 11

Kira

Fourteen miles? Not bad. And it wasn’t even 7am. 

Goddess, being sober sucked.

I headed to the kitchen.

“Good morning,” I said, perching on top of the bar stool.

Dina smiled, caught in conversation with one of the other cooks. “Be right there, sweetie.”

I wiggled uncomfortably on the seat. I was dripping in sweat; even getting out at 5 in the morning–on a cool morning, no less–wasn’t enough from stopping me from sweating like a pig. I even smelled like one. I lifted a cheek

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