She put her coffee cup to her lips—her “blowjob lips”, as Patricia often joked—and sank the final grainy dregs. She dared to stare at her comp...ter once more, seeing little more than a vague collection of numbers and graphs that began to blur as they always did at this time in the afternoon. She leaned back in her chair with a sigh, letting her half-closed eyes drift over the office partition. The words “suck it up” had been etched into the corner of the cubicle—her little reminder that the. " Not listening! The elbows and forearms were okay, but she'd break her hand if she got in a good punch. "Cut it out, Morgan."She froze at the sound of my voice. I stared into her eyes, "I fucked it up with Celia. Okay? I know it! But I didn't do anything that fucking bad! Just stupid, immature crap because I wasn't ready for what she wanted, except fucking her."I expected my dad or some bullshit high school grief counselor to be the first recipient of my prepared lie."Prove it," Morgan. More

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