Fretton Island
Fetish
You butter your toast as the mail comes. The noise shocks you in your sleep-deprived state, and you drop the knife with a clang. Cursing, you bend down to pick it up. You place it on the side before heading to your front door. Three letters. One from the landlord, most likely an eviction notice, one from the gas company, another overdue payment, but the last...
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