By: Jezzy Wolfe
“What are you talking about? My name is Teddy.”
I kicked him in the shin and stormed back to my house.
When I reached the front porch I turned around. He was clutching his leg and babbling in pain. Raising my fist, I screamed, “You can fluff your own cold cuts, jerkoff!”
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I put my house on the market the next day. I didn’t want to look out my window and see that mockery of my adoration growing in the dirt of my neighbor’s yard. To think his love had only been a ploy to get good fertilizer was an insult I just couldn’t stomach.
Despite my disappointment, I believe my Juan is still out there somewhere. I should’ve known all along that my neighbor wasn’t the man I was waiting for. I bet he didn’t even own a poncho.
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