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>After a little bit, you manage to calm yourself down.

>Talia's got you covered for half of the charges; you trust her when she says she's got someone that can deal with your firearm charges.

>What you're not sure about is if you've got a similar ace up your sleeve. Being a librarian doesn't exactly get you any contacts that are experts with relationships, real or not, legal or not.

>...In fact, most of the people there have relationship issues, if they've got a relationship at all.

>But if you can't get Talia tit for tat, you'll just have to produce some evidence. You go through the motions of making yourself breakfast, focused much more on the case than the eggs you're trying not to burn.

>How do you provide evidence of a relationship? At least, like the one you and Talia are supposed to have?

>You've faked stuff for appearances before-- given each other hugs, held hands, kisses on the cheek-- but somehow you don't think just doing that in the courtroom will work.

>You could go get a promise ring, as much as it'd make you gag-- or a collar, if you wanted her to smack you-- but it'd be a flimsy defense. You've no doubt the court would want evidence that it hadn't, in fact, been bought in the last week. And that would be harder to fake.

>The toaster you set up earlier chimes, and you hastily turn down the stove. Maybe your best option isn't to keep lying, and throw the whole case on its head. You know that Patricia has had it in for you both; all you need is some way to prove it beyond witness testimony.

>You type out a message to Talia one-handed as you plate up your buttery toast and eggs, but stop yourself before sending it.

>Maybe it's just paranoia, but that line in the email about 'monitoring communications' haunts you.

>It said it was just for stuff between you and Patricia, but this is the State. You have no doubt they'll be looking at any messages or calls you have with just about anyone, right now. It's better to just go and see Talia in person at work.

>Fortunately, she's working at FF Supply today, not the range. Not only will you be able to get the stuff that you need for the plan you almost sent Talia, but Patricia will have less of a legitimate reason to go there.

>And if she does, you'll have plenty of eyewitnesses and security footage to protect you, not to mention the rest of the store employees.

>The employees of the farming and general store know you fairy well, partially through Talia and partially through how much you go there; real or not, having a gf that gets you 20% off is nice.

>Plus, you've met her at work a few times before, too, so it won't be too unusual. In fact, it's where you two met for the first time two years ago.

>As you eat, that through about the State monitoring you makes your skin prickle. You look back at the morning exchange you had with her; there's not enough there to explicitly say that the two of you aren't actually in courtship, but it's still not a good look.

>The funny thing is that everything prior to that seems like the message history of two people in a relationship.

>Aside from the friendly conversation and the sharing of links, images, and other things, both of you started taking the piss out of the concept that you were an item together. Whenever one of you was bored at work, it was almost an obligation to send the other something with an obnoxious amount of emojis and a message so lovey-dovey that it made you want to throw up.

>'saw this ???? book, thought of u. can't wait to see ???? u again bby ???????????? and ? ur ????'

>The other person, of course, would then try to top it.

>'mmm, me 2!! ????????????! want u 2 ???? my ???? so bad rn.....'

>You sigh, clearing your plate and getting dressed; maybe submitting that as evidence would work. You've both been doing it a long time, there's at least the history aspect of it going for it.

>Or maybe you'll make the court so embarrassed from the overload of heart emojis and braindead messaging that they'll let you go just to get you out of the room.

>"Hey Anon. You lookin' for Talia?" Beth asks.

>"Yep," you tell the huge cow, "She on counter duty today?"

>"No, actually."

>She gives you a weird look, one that you return.

>"They have her doing floorwork now. It's weird, since we've only got like her, Jess, and Philip that can even work the gun counter."

>"That is strange..."

>You've no doubt you'll hear about it when you find the she-wolf, and you've got a bad feeling about why it is she got put there.

>"Hang on, I can page her for you," Beth says, turning to the customer service desk.

>"No! No, no, that's fine," you say quickly. "Just have her go to the game bait aisle, I just wanted to talk to her about something there anyway."

>The cow gives you another side-eye the way only her kind can, but says nothing as she resumes her trip to the phone. You start heading to the aisle, thinking through what you're going to say when you hear it.

>"Talia Grilliz, customer assistance in Aisle E2, Talia Grilliz, Aisle E2."

>You cringe a little-- you'd expected the cow to just use the radio. At least she didn't announce to the whole store that it was you, her 'boyfriend,' that needed assistance. Talia wouldn't likely be pleased with that.

>...Though maybe it could've been added to the scant pile of shitty evidence...

>The she-wolf is already there when you arrive, her usual outfit of denim and some button-up replaced by her FF Supply uniform. The jeans she wears today are a little more presentable than the ones she wears to the range. The blaze-orange shirt is tucked in tight, the little nametag on the chest the only thing adorning it aside from a small logo.

>"Anon," she says with a little more grumble than usual, "What are you doing here?"

>"I'm here to shop, of course," you say, then lean in close: "I've got an idea, but I need your help."

>The she-wolf gives a slight nod before cajoling you in her most overbearing customer service voice.

>"Of course, sir, I can take you right to the industrial-size canisters of bull-lube!"

>You groan.

>She doesn't actually take you there of course-- the aisle its in is always busy.

>...usually because of the product she mentioned...

>Instead, she takes you to the lumber yard. There's plenty of space, and the ambient noise from being outside gives you enough privacy from eavesdropping.

>"Alright what's your plan?" Talia asks you, crossing her arms. "You find some divorce lawyer that wants a change of pace?"

>"No. We're going to get some evidence."

>"I am not wearing a promise ring."

>"Not what I was going to suggest," you say, "I don't want to try and fake some old photos with one either. I wasn't kidding when I said I came here to shop; you guys still have trail cams, right?"

>The she-wolf raises an eyebrow, her ears sticking straight up.

>"Yeah. What're you planning?"

>"If we can't prove that we're together, then we just have to prove that this whole thing is bullshit."

>"Which it is," she snorts. "What are we recording?"

>"Pat," you say simply.

>Talia begins to smirk despite herself.

>"We put them up along the shooting shelters, and have her put on a show. There's already cameras in the entry shack, right?"

>"Yeah... and we've got a sign saying 'surveillance on premises,' so she can't try and get it thrown out."

>The she-wolf's smile falters a little.

>"How do you know she'll be there?"

>"Remember how the email said 'communications will be monitored? I get the feeling they don't just mean with her."

>Talia nods after a moment, grunting.

>"...And that's why you had to come here in person..."

>"No, I came by to see my girlfriend," you chuckle.

>Talia gives you that signature glare of hers, crossing her arms with a huff.

>"Use my discount, more like," she mutters.

>"That too."

>"Alright, fine. I'm guessing you're planning on coming to the range tomorrow for this little act, since that's when I'll be working?"

>You nod.

>"We go there tonight or something when it's closed and set things up, and exchange messages like I'm planning on coming to test something."

>"Good," she says, pulling out her phone, "I'll be outside your place at 10. Might not be in my car; I'll see if I can't borrow the twins'."

>It's your turn to give her the look; her sisters' car was a human-sized beater. Why would she want it?

>And hell, her sisters are both off for the summer: they're probably not even in New Apple for college right now.

>She looks up at you when she finishes the text-- presumably to her sisters-- and gives you a sarcastic smile.

>"I figured we were going all secret-agent, we wouldn't want to use our trucks."

>Ahh.

>Glad to see you're not the only one paranoid.

>"Fair point," you say, stepping away from the shelving you were leaning on. "Let's go and--"

>"Wait."

>You turn back to her, there's a little displeasure on her face.

>"I'm stuck on floor duty for another hour before lunchbreak. Can you keep me company till then, at least?"

>You think for a moment; you've got nothing planned, since you're also suspended from work for a week, and there's not much you can do about the trial until tonight.

>Plus, it'll give the two of you time to work the plan out in a bit more detail.

>"I suppose I could-- for a kiss."

>Talia growls before walking past you back to the building, slugging you in the arm.

>"Come on, let's look at those cams."

>"Hey, that wasn't a kiss!"

>"Oh, it was," she laughs roughly, "I can hit a lot harder than that, 'boyfriend.'"

>You take your time looking at the cameras and settling on a way to mount them. Talia's in no hurry, and wandering the store with you at least makes it look like she's doing her job.

>She kind of is, in a way. And you're an easier customer for her to deal with than anyone else.

>As you think about it, you realize how strange the concept of her as one of the store's floor-walkers is. She's not exactly a people-person, to put it lightly. Not a fan of small-talk, not a fan of answering the same questions all the time, not a fan of most people in general.

>After exhausting the topics of 'how we're going to trick Pat,' and 'how not to act like we're tricking Pat tomorrow,' you decide to bring up a more tender one.

>"Any idea why they put you on floor duty?" you ask quietly, rummaging through the various boxes of small, press-on magnets.

>The plan is to put the cameras on the roof of the shooting shelters-- the metal underside should be easy to put magnetic camera mounts on.

>"Got a few," she says. "Manager at least had the decency to tell me in person at the start of my shift."

>"What'd they say? Was it that shitty one?"

>"No, wasn't the boar-bitch. It was Cammy-- the new mongoose one. She's okay."

>Talia sighs, and you wonder if the messenger being half-decent is the only reason she's not fuming, or even here right now.

>"She told me that someone above her called in, and that I was on floor duty until they said otherwise. Said there wasn't anything she could do, and that they wouldn't say why."

>You snort.

>"No bullshit excuses about restructuring, or shifting your skillset?"

>"No."

>She goes quiet, and you debate on telling her your theory.

>She is your friend, after all.

>'Girlfriend,' even.

>"I got suspended from work this whole week," you start off. She doesn't react, so you go on.

>"Got an email this morning saying that 'due to the outstanding charges against me, authorities have recommended that I be given time off for my mental health.'"

>That gets her to laugh.

>"I get the feeling the same thing happened to you-- except Patricia can't throw her weight at another anthro so easily."

>"I was wondering how you could come in," Talia says, "Here-- this one will do."

>She shoves a few packages of magnets towards you. You put them in the basket, following her as she walks off and checks her watch.

>"Still like half an hour," she sighs, "Let's take our time with the cameras, eh?"

>"Do you think I'm right?" you ask, voice low, "About Pat, I mean?'

>"Of course you are," the she-wolf replies, voice just as quiet, "Just more State bullshit. Same thing as what got you and me into this whole mess."

>Her last words stick in your mind as the two of you go to the trail cameras, only interrupted once or twice by coworkers or other customers. Both of whom she kindly informed that she was busy assisting someone else at the moment.

>You don't say much as she 'assists' you, looking at the various models for the features you'll need. You're still stuck on those words.

>By the time the two of you decide on a model to get-- a budget, basic model that's got rocky camo to blend into the metal roof of the shooting shacks-- you decide you're overthinking it.

>The two of you are friends, period. You probably would be even if the state didn't make your friendship into a silver bullet for their bullshit policies.

>"...Perfect timing." Talia says when you stow the six cameras in your basket, "Lunchbreak will start by the time we get to the register."

>"Cool," you say, turning to lead the way, "If you wouldn't mind getting me that discount before you go, I can leave you to---"

>"Anon?"

>The she-wolf stops you with a hand on the shoulder, getting you to turn back to her.

>Talia has always had a bit of a resting bitch face, her lips slightly downturned, her ears pricked, and eyes slightly lidded.

>Now, her ears are drooped slightly, her eyes are wide, and her frown is more pronounced.

>"You wanna do lunch with me? In the breakroom?"

>What?

>"I'll get you a noodle cup or something, come on."

>"I-I guess, sure," you say-- though by the time you do, she's grabbed your hand and is pulling you along.

>The two of you have never done anything like this before. Sure, you've stopped by while she's working to shoot the shit (and maybe to get her discount), and you've done lunch together a few times.

>But she's never brought you behind the scenes.

>You doubt it's because of her coworkers, since they've made it very clear they think it's cute when you come by.

>...You hope it's not because of them...

>After you check out, she takes you to the back. It's about what you expected it to be; FF Supply is a warehouse, with the few interior walls being fairly thin. The plywood is visible here on the non-customer side, and the breakroom itself is back behind one of the larger interior walls, next to a bunch of packaged inventory.

>The walls for it slightly thicker, reducing the ambient noise somewhat inside the small room. Given the number of anthro workers, you're not surprised; one of the most common changes made to pre-state buildings is upping the soundproofing and softening acoustics. In this case, the company appears to have used some of their own inventory to do just that.

>Otherwise, though, the room is like any other breakroom you've been in. There's a fridge, a microwave, and a hot-water pot on a small counter that has the same rough appearance as everything back here. The number of tables and chairs is fairly sparse, but it at least means the space is easy to move around in. No plowing through chairs, even for larger employees like Beth.

>She happens to be taking her break as you and Talia arrive, along with a few other employees—so if that was Talia's concern, well, hopefully it won't be too bad.

>They all stare at you as you trail in behind the she-wolf, conversation slowing. The soft country songs of the radio fill the air before people go back to their sandwiches, chips, and gossip.

>"Come on," Talia says to you as she leads the way through. You recognize most of the small crowd, though you only remember the cow's name.

>The she-wolf rummages in the fridge while you microwave your styrofoam-encased feast, her tail bobbing out behind her. By the time your cup is ready, she's waiting with crossed arms.

>Her lunchbag is predictably small and camo-colored, its contents prepacked and vacuum sealed save the apple.

>...Even after your decade and a half of State-sponsored education, it's still weird that she can eat stuff other than meat... even weirder that she has to like you.

>The two of you sit down at one of the empty tables, and she hands you a fork that looks like it came straight from a mess kit. You blow on your noodles, and the she-wolf lets out a long sigh, slouching down in her chair with closed eyes.

>The cat with the blaze-pink shirt rather than the standard blaze-orange chooses to talk right when the two of you are taking your first bites.

>"You two doing something special after work?" she asks, looking at you with interest.

>"No, Kaia," the she-wolf replies for you. Her tone is especially curt, but the cat appears to either miss it or not care.

>"Well, what's he doing here, then? You don't normally bring your cutie back here..."

>You see Talia's lip curl slightly-- this cat picked the wrong day.

>But you're not about to let the she-wolf make her situation any more worse.

>"I prefer 'city boy,' thank you," you say before Talia can snap.

>The cat titters, the other eyes in the room being drawn to you-- including the ones of your 'girlfriend.'

>"I didn't take you for that," Kaia goes on, "why does the big, bad wolf call you that, Anon?"

>So she does know your name.

>You ignore her for a bit, scooping up a forkful of noodles while Talia slowly takes a bite of her kibble-bar.

>"I grew up in a small town," you say, loading up your next bite, "but someone is awful proud of growing up in the middle of nowhere. So now I'm her 'city boy.'"

>"Where was it you grew up?"

>It seems curiosity also strikes cows.

>"Plainfield," you tell Beth. She snorts, shaking her head.

>"That ain't a city. And I know from what she tells me that you ain't no city boy."

>You barely manage to stifle a grin, looking at the she-wolf.

>"Well, I'm her city boy," you say, leaning heavy on the twang as you reach a hand out and put it over hers, "Just like she's my moon munchkin..."

>The breakroom is filled with laughter-- though Talia's amber eyes are filled with that familiar, begrudging displeasure as she struggles not to smirk.

>She is your 'moon munchkin--' it's one of your favorite things to call her during your sappy messaging competitions, just like how she only calls you 'city boy' there.

>Saying that mushy stuff out loud is ten times better than typing it, even more so with an audience.

>"God, you're making me regret buying you that noodle cup already," she says-- and then she grabs your hand, pawpads and fur covering it.

>The look she gives you makes your arm hurt already.

>You check your phone again: 9:55.

>Talia is usually early because she drives like a madwoman, but it seems like her sisters' smaller car may be giving her problems.

>Hopefully she'll still show up-- and hopefully she'd leave your arm alone. She hit you again on the way out, and her lovetaps hurt.

>Though that's not surprising. These aren't the first, not by a longshot.

>The squeaking of a suspension rouses you from the fond memories of the two of you keeping up appearances. You barely recognize the light-colored sedan, having seen it once or twice when you went up to Talia's parents' place.

>The chunk of the locks is loud when you approach, and you can't help but chuckle when you get inside.

>"Shut up," Talia growls as she turns the car back to the street, crammed inside like a clown.

>Her seat is all the way back, but her legs still are bent at the knee, and she has to lean down between them over the steering wheel from her height.

>"Your sisters should pay you for cleaning the inside of the windshield," you snort as the four-cylinder does its best.

>The she-wolf just growls again. You spare her, relaxing into the seat while the radio plays softly.

>You feel a little excited, which is probably good considering your situation. You're pretty sure Talia is as well, though her ears are pressed against the headliner at the moment.

>You glance over at her; her outfit is a little unusual, you notice. Her jeans aren't ripped or torn like her usual ones, no tufts of gray fur poking out, but they're too dark to be her uniform jeans. And the jacket she has on is camo, a darker woodland pattern.

>But it's the hood that makes you laugh.

>"Quite the fashion statement."

>"Okay, Mr. shorts-and-hawaiian-shirt."

>"I don't think we're going to need to stalk anyone or anything while we're there, Talia."

>"Better hope not, your librarian legs fucking glow in the moonlight."

>You feign offense, gasping as you look at her.

>"Your fuzzy mug will do the same, anyway," you say after giving her a moment to smirk.

>"Fuck you, Anon."

>"Fuck you, Talia."

>The rest of the ride is thankfully uneventful, no four-legged deer deciding to prance around the old Sector roads on the way to the gravel lot. It's abandoned, of course, the dusk ceasefire long since passed.

>Still, you feel a need to be quiet when you slip out of the car, stifling your amusement as Talia extracts herself with a distinct lack of grace.

>You can hear her ass hit the gravel and a soft swear from her side of the car as she practically falls out; you're lucky you're busy grabbing the cameras and mounting equipment from the back, or she'd probably kill you.

>"Ready?" you ask, setting the bags down and gently closing the door.

>"Yeah, yeah," she says, heading towards the gate.

>"Always eager to go to the range..." she mutters as she works the various locks.

>"Well, that's why I started dating you..." you mutter back.

>"Shut up," she laughs, opening the gate.

>The two of you slip through, the moonlight letting you see the vague shapes of the different mounds, shelters, and signs.

>You were right-- Talia's face does kind of glow in the pale light.

>A look down says she was right about you, too.

>Maybe you'll take a vacation somewhere nice with the money you get from the countersuit...

>When the two of you arrive at the first shooting shelter, you set down the bag of equipment on the table and turn to the she-wolf.

>"You tall enough to reach the roof?"

>Talia stretches at your question, claws scraping softly against the metal. She walks back, losing contact about halfway through.

>"Not where we need it."

>"Hmmf. What then?"

>When she's silent for a few moments, you look up at her; she's looking down at you, an expression of concentration highlighted by the moonlight.

>"What...? Talia--"

>"Get on the bench, I got an idea."

>You climb up after a second or two. You trust her.

>"Grab the gear," she directs, looking up at you with crossed arms.

>The white fur of the underside of her tail bobs in the moonlight as you rustle through the bag, crossing into shadow and back as it sways.

>"Okay. Now what?"

>"Stay still and work fast," the she-wolf says, before closing the gap between you.

>Her arms wrap around you upper thighs, and you hiss out an expletive as she lifts you from the bench. It's all you can do to not clock her in the head as you try to stabilize yourself, not to mention avoiding smashing your head into the ceiling.

>"Quit squirming!" she growls, bouncing you up a little as her bear-hug on your legs tightens, "Where's that human backbone you're so proud of?"

>"That's-- metaphorical and you know it!"

>After a precarious half-minute or so, you don't feel like Talia's going to accidentally pull a wrestling move on you. She slowly begins moving towards the back of the shelter, where the ceiling is highest-- and the camera the most out of sight.

>"You gonna be able to hold me?" you ask, ducking under rafters as she goes.

>"I've dealt with bags of feed that are heavier," she grunts, the feeling of her throat on your hips strange.

>"...But hurry the fuck up..."

>The two of you repeated the same process for all six bays, and your mouth was slightly sore from holding the flashlight in your teeth so you could actually see what you were doing.

>Because you actually had an idea of what the she-wolf was planning, the other installs went a bit easier, though you still didn't exactly feel safe.

>But considering the benches were set into the concrete slabs, and the stools at them weren't exactly stable or meant to take some 7-foot wolf chick standing on them, it was the best option you had.

>The feeling of Talia breathing against your stomach was strange, as was the feeling of her hold on you. You and her have hugged before, but it was weird to feel her chest on your legs rather than anywhere else-- and to feel her holding you that tight.

>You would have liked to test the cameras to make sure they have a good angle, but that would involve going up there and taking them down again. And neither of you really was in any hurry to do that.

>Besides, you're sure they're set up at a good angle.

>"So you really never sneak out here at night?" you ask Talia as she locks the gate, "Never, not even once?"

>"No. I can shoot off my back porch."

>"But not at night!"

>She snorts, double checking the locks.

>"Why would I want to?"

>"Muzzle-flash. And those not-tracer bullets."

>"Maybe they're neat to your puny eyes, buddy, but they kill my night vision."

>She steps away, satisfied, and starts towards the car.

>"So you're saying you don't like fireworks?"

>"Never said that," she says, unlocking your door before going around to hers, "That's different."

>You snort as you get in, able to pass off your laughter as being at her remark rather than the difficulties she has squeezing in.

>"How so? Both are loud, both are bright. Both are pretty expensive."

>"They're not usually right in front of my face, dumbass," the she-wolf grunts, and the car shudders to life.

>You stay quiet as she pulls out from the gravel lot. You're tired despite all the excitement, and you get the sense she is too.

>That and she clearly takes no joy in driving the small beater.

>You stare out the window; the moon casts everything in a silver sheen.

>Trees flash by, the lush roadside grasses and bushes obscuring the forest floors beneath.

>Farm-fields stretch off into forever, their crops ranging from barely sprouts to tall stalks or full-formed bushes, dotting the slight slopes of the landscape.

>You sigh; you really wish you could move out of the city. Even if it's still part of the state, these spaces-- those places between cities, between towns-- feel like they contain some ounce of freedom. Some ounce of hope.

>"Every now and then," Talia suddenly says, voice quiet, "daddy would surprise us back when we were kids."

>You turn to look at her: she appears focused on the road, hunched over.

>"He'd pull boxes of fireworks from nowhere-- don't know if he got'em that day, or if he'd been saving them-- but he'd pull them out and give each of us a lighter."

>She chuckles softly to herself, a grin gracing her lips.

>"First couple times he and momma kept us at arms length, making sure we didn't blow our hands off. But after that, he'd just toss us the lighters and say 'go put on a show for me and your ma.' And so we did."

>You can imagine it; you've been up to her parents' place a few times, and the farm has large, open fields. Plenty of sky to use.

>"But that's not why I love fireworks, Anon. You know how I go up there before I go off in the woods? And after?"

>You give a hum of acknowledgement; words aren't necessary.

>"Well, since he and momma know just when I'd be coming back, they wait for me to pull into the driveway. And then, he and Apollo and Atlas light the fuses to big 'ol boxes of them."

>A hum escapes her, as she slips a few hours north to her parent's place.

>"I don't even need the headlights, Anon. That's how bright it all gets."

>She sighs, her smile fading a little.

>"If it weren't for things like that, I don't know if I'd ever come back from those trips. I could do it, you know. Just stay out there in the woods forever. I'm sure of it."

>You don't doubt her, but you don't ask the obvious question of 'why don't you.'

>Instead you stay quiet as the city approaches, the moonlight dying to streetlights.

>You're a bit surprised when the she-wolf gets out when she pulls up to your apartment, popping the door as you turn to thank her.

>"Uh, thanks, Talia," you say, doing the same, "You just stretching?"

>"--yep--" she grunts, stretching to her full height, arms above her head.

>The curves of her silhouette stand out as she twists in place, and you're pretty sure you hear a couple cracks.

>"Well, see you tomorrow," you say, and turn to the doors. You hear her groan a little more behind you, all of it capped off by a loud huff.

>"Hey, Anon."

>You turn around, and she's on your side of the car, catching up to you.

>"What's up?"

>Her ear flicks as she looks down at you, and then she grabs you again, this time in a proper hug.

>Normally, she crouches down a bit when she does-- being as tall as she is, her rack is just about head-height for you-- but she doesn't this time, and your face is pressed into the extra-soft flannel.

>"Thanks for coming up with something," she says after a moment, though she doesn't let go. Your arms drift into place around her back, and she doesn't mind. You grunt a 'mm-hmm' into her chest, not bothering with words.

>Though this time, it's because they'd end up muffled to shit.

>After a while she finally pulls back, letting you go, staring down at you again with a warm expression.

>"You're a good friend, Anon," she says, mussing your hair, "I'll see you tomorrow."

>You stare at her as she walks back around the car, managing to get out a "you too," before she squeezes herself into the little sedan. You wave to her one last time before you head inside, taking the stairs slow.

>It's late, and you're tired. You're in a sort of trance as you prepare for bed, going through the motions.

>As you lie down, you tell yourself that whatever happens, it'll all be over tomorrow. Or the end of the week.

>But one little thought keeps you awake, just a little bit longer. The one thought that's in your mind.

>"Why didn't you say 'And you're a good girlfriend' when she walked off?"

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