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... ssing, grating voice asked, causing me to instinctively wilt inwards. It was only the large cardboard box I was carrying that kept me from trying to cringe into myself like a scrunched up paper towel.

Turning around slowly, I greeted the withering and hateful bitch known as Rhea. Of course, I didn’t call her that out loud. That would’ve made this encounter even more exhausting.

Glancing back and forth between the LGBTQIA+ Clubhouse and her, I opened my mouth to speak, then closed ...

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