Mr. Jefferson’s gaze locked into you, your head lifting from the selfie you just took to confirm you were there. He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back onto an empty table. Mr Jefferson: Do you mind telling us where the first selfie originated from? Victoria had already answered this correctly to only make a snobby remark to you. Something about how Mr. Jefferson was hers. You decided to say the correct answer. Maybe you could get to Los Angeles and become a real artist.
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