I sank my life into my work, as if I worked hard enough, my client's happiness would rub off on me. Six months in, a knock on my door "Lizzie, you loo... horrible." My best friend Celine. A high-profiled freelance writer. Blond, fine featured, and legs that go on forever - especially if she decided to wear the towering stilettos she so favors. I had pretty much stopped socializing and became a hermit, living in sweats and the rags I wear into my workshop. On this particular day, there was a hole. "Do you know who got it?" He asked, coming to the door. "I really liked that chair, it fit me." You can swap chairs with me if you like." Henry called out. "This chair seems pretty comfortable." They are identical guys." I said. "Face it Randy. Your old chair had seen better days and needed to be put out to pasture." That was the best, piece of furniture I had. It wasn't that old." said Randy, not willing to give up without an argument."Ain't that the truth." I said. "And you know what that. More

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