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Like me, she needs to grow a
conscience fast.

Mine was old and was dying.

Where is that awful feeling you feel in your bowels when you have done the unthinkable?

Where was mine?

I certainly didn’t feel it there anymore.

Instead it was the pleasure of sin that remained.

The thought of doing it again doesn’t repulse you.

Oh! But what about our Father?

What’s this doing to him?

‘Erica I have done it and this time I enjoyed it.’

That’s what she said to me; she looked so happy and let’s not talk about her glowing.

She’d never looked this good; I didn’t know whether to be happy for her or sad, she always did look scruffy, but. . .

I knew she was dying; this glow was not coming from the inside.

I suppose if she had such a good time she was going to see him again.

Oh poor baby! She thought she was in love.

It was the mirage of sex.

Oh God! I have been here before.

She needs to grow a conscience fast,

Before she takes the broad road that never leads you home.

_Lorraine Stitch.

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