I don't care for bugs, the slightest bit, they make me feel off kilter for reasons unknown. The previous evening I imagined about bugs. I was in a room, I trust it was one of the young lady's. I laid in bed taking a gander at the fixing to what it resembled water aggregated in the fixing paint. The paint began to make like pockets, or air pockets. Somebody broke one to check whether it was water when truth be told these pockets were loaded with bugs, and they were slithering all around the dividers.
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