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ONE UP

It's confirmed. Abigail is a chatterbox.

She's been talking non stop for the past four hours, I joke not. From the time she stepped into the room at eight in the morning and woke me up till way after the physical therapist left, she had been yapping non- fucking stop.

It was presently brunch time, and she was still talking about some guy she met at the supermarket. And get this, most of it was on auto-repeat.

I mean I loved her and all, but I just wanted her to shut the fuck up for once. For some weird reason, she seemed to be in a real chipper mood today. Unfortunately for her, I wasn't in the mood for aimless chit-chat. The only thing that kept running through my mind was how I would do the work Alex gave me.

It seemed I had fallen into a trap, one which I put myself into. You know the saying- The way you lay your bed is how you lie on it. Well this bed I was lying on was very uncomfortable and I didn't know how to make it feel better.

". . . so this guy walks up to me with those in
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