They said they liked this one the most. It would fit me the best.
Of all the shirts they had seen at the GABF, the Great American Beer Festival.

I thought it was alright. I was too happy people brought a T back home especially for me.

Although I’m not a Goth.

And that quilt, that’s what we call a grand foulard.
Each night I’m sleeping underneath it.

Unless it’s dirty. Than it’s hanging here, where it’s hanging now, waiting for the moment it’s dry enough to be used again.

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