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It would be this day, November 6th, in the club on the corner of 4th and main, that this story starts.

"Hey do you want another shot?"


What would another shot hurt. This guy whose name I don't even know has been buying me shots all night. Would you deny shots on your birthday? I was supposed to be here with my friend, but she got drunk and left with some photographer guy about an hour ago. Left alone on your birthday. Your 18th birthday at that.

"What's your name?"

"Excuse me for a sec. I got to take this call."

That's the third time he's denied telling me his name. Maybe I should leave. Or I could stay here and have fun. I like he latter.

"Did you get her? Yeah I'll get this one. Don't worry. Calm down, this will be an easy one."

"So what's your profession mystery man?"

"I'm a photographer."

"Shit, my earring."

Great. I dropped my earring. Those were my grandmothers. I can't see it. Wait, maybe that shiny thing is it.


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