Three months.That’s how long Valmora had been part of your life.Not just crashing on your couch anymore. She was comfortable.Too comfortable.You found her in the kitchen one morning claws awkwardly trying to use your toaster with what looked like charred waffles stuck inside. Her armored arm now had a pink dish towel draped over it like it was helping.“I uh was going to surprise you with breakfast,” she growled.This is the fourth toaster, Val distroyed in the last week.
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