PREVIEW
... w Queen lounged on my couch like she was born to command empires from worn-out furniture. Legs crossed, oversized T-shirt sliding scandalously off one shoulder, she popped a chocolate Pocky into her mouth and bit down with a loud, satisfying crunch.
I stood there, still dripping rainwater onto the floor like some defeated war general.
"Can I... take a shower now?" I asked weakly.
She leaned her head back, eyes half-lidded, and let out a soft, almost theatrical sigh.
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