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”Then I asked had she informed that to her father? She said no, but not to worry, he will come in 2 or 2.5 hours. I said “ok, come to my flat, cal... your father from my house”. Please remember, that time mobile or cell phone was not common and used to consider as something which only rich people can use! She came to my flat – called her father and explained the situation. Then she said “dad wants to talk to you” and handed the receiver to me. Her father on the other side of the line, requested. It was early Saturday morning and she listened to her grandpa leave for the hardware store, then she lay in bed awake until her grandma made noises in the kitchen. Mia then got out of bed and crept down the stairs."Good morning," Claudia greeted her granddaughter with a squeeze before turning back towards the sink where she was working."Morning Gram," Mia managed, "Is Popoff gone?" Yes," Claudia said, even though she suspected Mia already knew that.Mia didn't waste any time, "I want a picture. It was 13 days since her younger self initiated her 2nd temporal jump and popped into Alex’s bedroom unannounced. Alex had expected her return within days, a week at the most. Still, it was good to have her here now.Still grinning, Younger-Alex shifted between her older self’s legs and drew closer. It wasn’t the most comfortable position to be in, Alex knew, having done this herself on other occasions. She also knew Younger-Alex fought to hide her embarrassment. Alex had never acclimated to. ” I grin looking at her cute ass.“So is your hand, hun.”I sigh. Think things through, Judes, for fuck’s sake.SaturdayI stumble down to the kitchen the next morning. I forgo brushing my teeth in urine. I’m not brushing anything in piss without a morning cup of tea.“Morning,” says Becky cheerfully.I grunted something. I’m not a morning person. Give me a cup of tea, some leftover Chinese and talk to me after that. Looking at my still shitty, if dry, hand, I grunt again.Becky grins and fetches a.

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You wouldn’t want to be there. Not at 11:00 A.M. Not at 11:00 P.M., or all the hours in between. Not at anytime. ‘I don’t have any money on me,�...� said Down, snatching back his own death sentence before Pub could pocket it and sell it later to one of his many dubious friends. He patted his pockets, theatrically. ‘Could you…?’ Pub sighed complicatedly, somehow managing to appear exasperated, generous and sinned-against in the same tobacco-drenched breath, but he reached a scrawny hand into his. He paused in the doorway, his dark hair falling across his eyes as he stared. A slow smiled forming on his lips. He set his bag down on the couch and ran a hand through his hair. My breath caught. That one simple gesture made my insides clench. I licked my lips again. He moved until he was standing behind my chair and gently smoothed my hair back, his fingers massaging my scalp as he watched me. I let my head drop back and I watched him watching me. I wanted to stand, press myself against. More

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