the bakery, to buy that car. A 1968 Ford Mustang, cherry red
t a second thought. She was my best friend, my c
like she planned to now. On the way back, on a dark
retired teacher whose car had b
she must have fel
iend," didn't call the cops.
llet sometime before – and planted it in the Mustang's glove compart
later that I had been driving. That I ha
My two closest peopl
d out by their calculated lies
for a trial. He was a local biker, connected, with a
They didn't want money, no
p, endless. They left me on the side of the highway, broken. T
er even recover
efore the blood, before the
felt like I was still there, the p
nt confusion. I looked at Mike, his brow furro
inside me was a living
et away with it
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