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Don't I Feel Rotten
December 11, 2003, 3:33 p.m. She pauses in her hurried searching, stands up, pushing a strand of hair out of the way. She chews her bottom lip as her eyes dart about, hoping, praying. Wringing her hands, she catches sight of herself in the mirror: tears standing in her eyes, threaten to brim over. "I've lost someone's present!" She wails, and then throws herself on to the bed in a movement of pure melodrama.
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