And…. the Bomb Detonates

August 2015

Two years later and I’m dealing with another fucking D-Day.  Just got a message from The Saint and he gave me his phone number.  We had a nice long talk.  I’m not sure how long it’s been going on but she went to the fucking funeral with him.  And there was a reunion last time he went and he saw her then.  I’m not sure what I’m going to do at this point.  I don’t want to ruin my kids’ lives yet again.  There’s no fucking way we can sell this house and get what we’ve put into it.  I’ve got 3 dogs and 3 cats and what the hell am I going to do with them? Oh, and not that it matters anymore but he texted me at 11:30 and said he had to turn around because he had keys in his briefcase so he left this morning.  Then he had an accident.  Good!  I wish he had fucking died!


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