I message David. "Don’t assume I believe anything that you have told me."
He responds with a Ha Ha emoji. He follows this up with, “Well, best you write a story about it.”
It is a clear admission of guilt.
I wonder how many days it will be before the tacky cheap-hotel-for-one admission comes forth?
I reckon he's made a deal with the universe, never on his own sheets.
He can't soil his new house. It's probably sacred, declared, in a coven smoking ritual... on a rock... in the moon light. I know how his mind works, and all his guru (he hates that) hocus pocus. I've heard it enough times.
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