What the fuck…. “ he muttered under his breath. My pink lipstick marks the empty glass and my perfume lingered. He picked up the other glass and d...ank- Jameson. She remembered, he thought with amusement. Ripping open the envelope, a card key. Hotel Le Marais, six blocks away by his calculations. Inside, a note in my handwriting - room 347. **** I walked into the night New Orleans night with that secret smile still clinging to my face. I wonder if he’d come. I hope he would. ***The hot chicory. But more importantly, she could articulate it to others. To her it was similar to combining elements in a painting, to render a blended vision to an audience.The instructors were impressed enough with her last year to have already begun pitching their school to her. She was too young for promises of scholarships to be made, but they made it clear that if she continued her development, there likely would be in the future.She intended to spend the majority of her time during the camp working with. More

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