She saw herself in very much Vivie’s position—managing something. “Great, Cathy. She leaned forward in her chair, as if petrified in fear by the scary story. She was glad not to be baking in it anymore, or feeling the fiberglass splinters 64 invading her rear end from sitting on the bleachers. “I don’t think she quite sees the harm of those people or the sort of life to which they would draw her,” she said. You’d think with as much dick as she gets that she’d cheer up.
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