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... s I sat on the floor of my room and leaned my back against my bed. I hated my stress-eating habits. Honestly, I’ve never succumbed to this before in years. It wasn’t even this bad when George passed away. I stuffed another spoonful of ice cream into my mouth before sucking on the spoon, feeling the cold stainless against my tongue.
That night I went to sleep with dreams of various scenes that might appear in the script that the director would mail over. I thought my imagination had run q ...
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