Whenever I smell asphalt, I think of Maureen. That's the last sensation I had, before I blacked out: the thick smell of asphalt. And the first thing I saw when I woke up was her face. She said she'd fix my bike. Free. No strings attached. I should have known then that things are never that simple. Yeah, when I think of Maureen I think of two things: asphalt. . . and trouble.
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I am Ashley. My pronouns are she/her.