Chapter One
You entered Fiesta Laundry for another boring, routine morning cleaning clothes. You're a striking blonde, long hair, and you sat near me as I finished folding my clothes. Our eyes met briefly, but I wish I had more time to stare into them and push out enough words to start a conversation. You sat down and opened your book to chapter one.
I hope this message reaches you -I know it'll reach a million spammers, but maybe I'll find your response hiding between the clickbait and hidden viruses. If so, I hope you'll help me write Chapter Two.
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