I'm in some fleapit motel off Route 66 somewhere outside of Barstow and the only sound I can hear is the traffic on the highway and the sluggish beat of my own heart. I have a half-empty bottle of tequila on the nightstand and my laptop on my knee. The sheets smell of stale sweat, the soap's been used and there are crumbs of something ground into
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Comments 18
I love you.
Bring the woman in the red dress, if you think it's a good idea.
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Can't wait to see you again and I feel bad for not being around lately, given recent events.
The girl in the red dress couldn't make it, but I asked them to hold the room for me. Something tells me she'll still be there when I get back.
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I know I could count on you.
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And really, besides that, I didn't know what to say. It doesn't happen very often.
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I'm feeling pretty spoiled with all the amazing actresses commenting in my journal lately.
*cough* Okay, please forgive me for that shameless fanboy moment...
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Hello, the name is Maggie Gyllenhaal.
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Drink?
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Of course.
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Comment 14: Stop hogging all the women.
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Short version: Yes, Dad. *smirk*
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