It still hurt. One week, two days and fourteen hours after the momentous event it still hurt like hell. The object of her misery was coming around that night to collect the last of his stuff. She felt sick when she thought of the hussy's hands all over him, touching him, caressing him, wanting him. Damn the thoughts that wouldn't go away. Day and night they pestered her, prying at the edges of sleep and forcing it back so that...
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