I asked you on Wednesday how you made a living.
"I play piano in a bar every week night," you responded. You said they paid you well. If 'well' in your dictionary defined itself as a shitty apartment building that resembled my grandmothers underwear flapping in the wind, then I didn't know what 'very well' would be like to you.

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Red String (joshler)
FanfictionJosh works at Starbucks. Tyler doesn't even know his name.