“Target in sight…” she whispered into the tiny microphone discreetly hidden beneath her lapel. Her earpiece crackled. “Good job Green Finch. You’ve got the go for execution.” Green Finch. A name she’d given
100 Beers of Solitude
One night I threw a guy off a roof. There was this party. 100 Beers of Solitude. I was invited by someone I thought was my soulmate but was really more a fair weather friend.
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