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She always sat on the back of that ugly beat up car, a rusted box, drinking her beer. I passed her every evening, coming home. She was usually barefoot, her jeans tattered at the bottom. Some days she smoked as she drank, other times it was just the beer, watching the few cars that passed her on that backroad. I knew her name, hell, every guy in town knew her. We had all loved her in school, wanted her. She was Homecoming queen, Prom queen, student this, that.

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