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September 20, 2005

Volume 6, Issue 20

"I'm sorry.."

You don't have to use the exact words, just the general theme.


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D: Broken

Every second Saturday the kids would be waiting outside her house. I'd take them somewhere fun, somewhere like the zoo. They'd spend their time tearing the place up, running around like they'd finally been let off the leash and I'd watch them; so full of energy and wonderment, so very much like us.

Karen would be waiting when we returned; her torment only just begun. She would have to sit and listen to their day over dinner. There would be that moment of eye contact as they returned to her care when all I wanted to say was I'm sorry.

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Ted: Ummmmmm, sorry?

Your country is no longer under the heel of a brutal dictator...sorry.

Your house got washed away by a tidal wave and we fed you and helped you rebuild...sorry.

You are allowed to have a voice in your own political future as a woman...sorry.

Your entire country does not speak Japanese, German, or Chinese...sorry...sorry...sorry.

The fucking planet is a better place to live in because we have raised the banner of freedom and independance and gone to the god-damned mat to make sure you have the freedom to spit in our faces...Sorry mutherfuckers.

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Stacy: Do Me A Favor

"I'm sorry," he said, without feeling.

She fought against the tears, determined not to let him see her broken, destroyed. She looked at him, really looked at him, as she hadn't done in years. And she saw how he'd subtly taken her free will, her much vaunted independence, turned them into his toys. All she'd done for the past two years was worry about how he viewed her, what he thought of her. With a shiver of near disgust she realized she hadn't had a thought that didn't include him for a very long time.

"Don't come back," she said.

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