FOREWORD: I submitted this piece to a submission call, but it got rejected, so here it is. My blog needed updates anyway.
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Sol was poring over the building plans when the front door flung open. He traced his fingers along floor 48.
“Babe, close the door,” Sol said. “The smog’s getting in.” When no reply came, he looked up to find a tear-stricken Jenn.
“What’s wrong?”
“They did it,” she said between sobs. “They s-stuck me like a pig.”
“What?”
