Praline’s beady eyes narrow. One of her several goons approaches. His name is Larry, from what I recall. He holds six giant orange pills in his sweaty palm.
“You only gave me three yesterday!”
“You missed a dose. Now you take it twice.” Praline places a glass of water on the wooden table. She didn’t even put ice in it. How rude.
“Swallow,” Praline commands.
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