I instantly recognized the masturbating woman in my husband’s saved email file. I could hear her children playing in the next room. I could see her wedding photos on the wall behind the bed she was lying (and sometimes bent over) on. I admired her bed frame as she began moaning my husband’s name.  ...
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I talked to many social workers during the two and a half years that Michelle was sick.  We spent so much time in the hospital between the surgeries, the treatments, etc. that while she was sleeping I would often ask ...
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