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Crusty mess.Logan shoved me down into a chair next to him at the bar, One ice-tea please. He said and turned to me with an expression that said, See, I don't drink.
Would you like that Irished up for you, sir? The bartender woman asked smiling pleasantly. I couldnt help but laugh, and a grimace crossed Logans face.
No, thank you. He replied sternly.
And for you maam? She turned to me. Scotch on the rocks, please. I instructed and she obliged our requests, turning and tending to create the drinks.
Isnt that drink a little strong for your tastes? No appletini? No other unnamed fruity drink? Logan smirked at me.
I sneered in response. Come on, Logan. When was the last time you even paid the least bit of attention to what I drink? I asked monotonous as the bartender handed us our drinks.
When was the last time we sat together without argument? He exhaled.
I rolled my eyes
Teenage TaoismGiving birth is the closest I’d ever felt to dying.
Before that, my near death experiences had consisted only of my silent announcement of pregnancy—silent, being that my social media accounts were all deleted almost simultaneously and I never returned to school in the fall, saying without really saying that I had caught the malicious disease of “teenage pregnancy”. I’m sure the whisper spread in the hallways like the Bubonic Plague. That September, sitting at home on what would have been the first day of my senior year, I imagined friends I’d never talk to again saying “she was only seventeen, and so full of life!” at my absence in the cafeteria tables, as if they were attending my funeral instead of talking about me behind my back.
"Full of life," I had snorted then, folding a never ending stream of what had once been my own baby clothes. "Literally."
I walked around like a zombie for the months of my pregnancy, deciding t
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