by Jackson Ferrell
I’m pretty sure I can trust Josh. He thinks maybe he can salvage some data from my corrupted memory sectors.
I’m not so sure about Angie, though. She talks about me like I’m not even there, and looks at me like I’m property. And long after everyone’s gone to bed, she’s still up, watching me.
Sunday, December 6, 2009
Personal Log: #SZ990-E.2016.1003.22:14:14.199
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