I’ve mostly followed that aged adage, “Don’t shit where u eat,” so I have not done much slit prowling where I live. But as I’m probably moving I decided to chuck that thought and leave the condo complex with a bang-so to speak. Marissa (24, a salesperson in a mall department store) and I’ve been nonchalant acquaintances for a year or so, ever since she moved into her (deceased) grandma’s unit downstairs. But we got chummy at the condo association’s 4th of July fling, and I actually thought I might get laid-for my own, intimate joy, not yours-till one of the aged dears had a heart attack on the dance floor, and that killed Marissa’s brewing passion stone cold. (The aged gal’s ok now, if u care.)

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