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Stroll

My conscience went for a stroll yesterday. The timing was a bit unfortunate. I was sprawled on the couch and my shrink was at hand. Armed with her dictaphone and razor sharp brain, she was ready for the assault. That's when he, my conscience, decided to walk out of the room. Maybe he felt it was unnecessary to hang around when the brain rattled out past incidents of guilt, happiness and sorrow. Knowing that she will be deducting patterns to prescribe whatever the pharma firm pays her to peddle. As he wasn't around, I could feed her with the juiciest fiction my brain could squeeze out and the rest they say is ecstasy.  

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