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She laid back down, resting on her side. Her gaze fell on the beautifully potted flower that he had once given her, with its purple petals that faded to white at the owx tips, and the weird little yellow globules sticking out of the center of it. She had learned what escorte premium de lux  were called the day he gave it to her – pistils. He had never told her where he got it from party . She had questioned him multiple times, and every time, he had deflected the question, saying he didn’t remember, or he couldn’t pronounce the name, or it was some random shop in the city.

Bullshit. It was all bullshit. He was bullshit hardcore sex . His gifts were bullshit, his new girlfriend was bullshit, his love was bullshit. All of it.

Infuriated and irrational, she huffed and chucked her phone at the plant, shattering the little clay pot. Soil spilled over her desk and the flower wilted slightly, and she suddenly felt bad for prostituate ieftine românia. The poor thing didn’t deserve that. She stood up, scooping the flower up gently with a handful of soil to protect its roots – and immediately dropped it, her heart pounding.