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... the biting of food.
It was so abnormal, I wanted to slither out of my skin.
We previously settled within the house, however I could see September, sitting on one of the kitchen counters, seeing her phone with a stressed articulation.
“Hey,” I said as I walked up to her. “Anything to worry about?”
“About what?” she hastily returned, her voice a bit too high.
“Your phone,” I said, nodding towards it. “You’ve been looking at it for the past ten minutes.” “An ...
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