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... he room with a satisfied smirk.
He played me.
That b-st-rd played me.
I hope I had gastro-acidic, stinky breath at least. And what about my food?
I’d stopped hoping someone would come for me days ago.
Did he fool me?
Yes.
Did he also crush the last flicker of hope I had left?
Also yes.
But who cares?
Where is my food?
He even took the crouton.
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