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Fifty-One

It's all over.

My phone rings. Kirsten. The girl I slept with last night.

She's a tourist and Kirsten's not even her real name. She told me.

I forgot it the second I poured my fertilizer in her. I actually saved her number as Hotel Fuck.

"Hello," I say.

"Hey, Tiger," she purrs. "I'm still in bed...

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