No emotions required. You’re like the Wayne Gretsky of sluts.” I say, confident she would furiously google who that was later. XXX I’m about to cry out when I see Kimmy’s blonde curls swinging in front of my face. I move my chair back until it hits the desk behind mine. You’re like the Wayne Gretsky of sluts.” I say, confident she would furiously google who that was later. For better or worse, what started as one-sided bullying evolved into a war of attrition between privilege and determination, fueling gossip for years to come. Free from the chair, not the feeling that I’m about to give birth to a table leg. Please don’t let my obituary read: suicide by giant dildo. It vibrates with the sound of a compressor, white liquid flowing up into the fake rubber balls. I let my math instinct take over a
