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Saturday, 8:00 A.M.
Any second now Ethan would be pulling into the curb with his third degree primed and ready to go. This made Sarah’s head pound even harder as she stood outside her apartment building anxiously awaiting the barrage. It had been just over twenty minutes since she had returned home from Scott’s loft apartment. In that short time she had managed to grab a shower, put on some clean clothes, and throw some food down her throat. It was a piece of whole wheat toast that was not doing its intended job of settling her stomach. The more she thought about how the follow-up conversation would go after her brother-in-law’s stern text, the faster the tiny vein in the middle of her forehead would involuntarily throb. As the wince left her tired eyes, she spotted the Monte Carlo appearing from around the corner. Another throb.
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