Luckily for Benita’s friend, roommate, or whatever she was, she wasn’t home when we stepped inside the apartment. I had already prepared a speech in my head for her, and I was honestly looking forward to delivering it.Benita, however, didn’t have much to pack. In fact, she had very little to her name.Seeing that only made me angrier at the way that so-called friend had manipulated her under the guise of helping.Before we left, Benita insisted on writing a thank-you note, even after I told her it wasn’t necessary. She refused to budge.“Any help should be appreciated,” she said calmly while folding the paper. “And it’s never good to burn bridges.”Benita was exactly the kind of girl my mother always wished I would be.When we arrived at my apartment, the look on her face was priceless. She tried to hide it, but I could see the questions sitting right behind her eyes. It was almost comical.“If you’re going to live here with me,” I told her, dropping my keys on the table, “we’re goin
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