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single mother looking to live the good life for a while. I would like it to be discreet, I like to travel, I have any open schedule to travel a few days a week. I dont mind if your in a different state. If you can afford to fly me to you. I am a fun, outgoing, educated female. Send me a e-mail with your name, number and photo.. Serious people only. from the novel I am currently working on: I remember childhood incidents. Random bits of images, feelings, and sounds were all blended into the messy soup of my memory. At the age of, I had my first encounter with God. My parents took me to a local church and dressed me in sized suit and tie. I can still re the cold, brisk air rushing over me as I entered the building, the bright red seat coverings, and the wood grain of the pew in front of me. There were thousands of people in attendance, all blurred into single murmur of coughing and whispers. I remember the gently worn pages of the Bible that my mother handed me, opening it to reveal the mystic words of some foreign passage. The preacher took to stage, and I heard him talk about. I do not remember much of what the preacher said, but I do remember him talking about, that I should accept him into my heart. That night, after church, I was alone in my bedroom. There was no carpet on the floor, just raw plywood, as my stepfather had just finished building the room. Bare sheetrock with white spots of joint compound surrounded me. I sat on the steel blue sheets of my bed, and thought about God. I felt a strange sensation, an urge, a yearning for. It was a burning that I felt, urgency in the preacher’s words. I repeated the prayer that I heard at the end of the sermon, and was in that moment that I became a.
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