(Leave your story in the comments below.)
“What had happened wuz”… (she’s lying).
Esmie’s devious smile faded once again.
Norma Jean always imagined directing.
I came. I saw. I left.
He, she: love blossomed, faded, died…
On Wednesday, my fortune read….
In the end, her beauty terrified…
“Help, I’m pregnant!” cried Virginia. “Whodunnit?”
My God, he is married. Shame.
“But you told me he died!”
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