Kristine and I

Kristine and I were as different as we can get. She gother, I sports idiot. She was dressed in a black leather jacket, I was in a red workout sweater. She fantasy lover, I comic book reader. She’s a party lion, I’m a fitness junkie. The one with tongue piercing, tattoos and makeup, I naturally and strenily. The one with long, black-colored hair, I’m short-cut. She heavy metal fan, I blues fan. Yet we as erteris — without any of us seemed to understand why. If…

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