PREVIEW
... t her place, packing up, blissfully unaware of my lifestyle. Breakfast? Smoke and a beer. Dinner? Smoke and two beers—three if I was feeling generous. Tomorrow, she’d move in, and I could already imagine her face when she saw my fridge stocked with cans and not much else.
I stood outside Delilah’s door, the evening air cool against my skin, a box of croissants in my hand—her favorite, a small gesture to not show up empty-handed.
I knocked and waited. A few seconds later, the lock ...
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