After making me park my car in the middle of the garage, I stepped inside the boy’s house after almost one year of pissing off and noticed the inside is mostly the girl’s furniture pieces and little decoration of Sanrio-like piece. Only the religious statues of crucifix, mother and son atop the fireplace mantel and the boy’s double-picture of his parents remain as reminders of whose money the down-payment went towards the house. The floor was cold to my feet and through my socks because they won’t allow shoes indoors. I regret to ever set foot at that place.
Hello Flynn, nice, and good luck!
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