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"Presents" Chapter 1 by c.w. cobblestone The fruitcake wouldn't fit in Elena's suitcase, so I set the tin by the front door near the ski equipment, causing my bitchy wife to fly into one of her tirades. "Why is my mom's fruitcake on the floor? You don't put food on the goddamn floor, Roger — what's wrong with you? Are you stupid?" "S-sorry, honey, it's in a tin so I thought—" "There's your problem right there: You thought. Don't think…

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