Early in the morning, a dilapidated New York apartment. You thought a woman wanted peace, and you made a cheap breakfast, but you were rejected. Look at the police boots next to the bed, whether there is a private bathroom in this broken apartment, you still want to smoke a cigar early in the morning and eat breakfast on the blonde's ass, I said buddy, do you smoke more than three yuan and five cigarettes Silly. A so-called IQ crime, who was finally killed by Hawking's finger; an intern police officer knew everything at least not to cause trouble, all NYPD is a proper mess; the last red dress was painted with nail polish and leaked half a mile I can't wait to tell the world that I'm the heroine who is sassy and cheap, hurry up and fuck me. I want to commit suicide every day. Now I am glad that I still have a finger to use. The story came to an abrupt end, and I groaned.
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