Rent Dirty Money
Perhaps it was just me, but every time I managed to steal a glance at the sofa, it seemed not as white anymore. Of course, it was still white; pristine and clean, but in my mind it seemed to me that it had changed a shade, going from a true white to an off-white. It had been sullied. I could no longer look at it the same way. I hadn’t even managed to sit on it since, choosing instead the old faded floral armchair. It was so out of place in the apartment, but it had belonged to my grandmother,...
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