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Whenever our friend would get back, he'd be changed. He'd have a tan. He'd have a new accent. He'd be wearing Reebok instead of Asics. His T-shirt would say Sonic Youth, while ours was still the same old 'Maiden. He'd have new curse words: "wankstain", "pissbitch", "cunthole". He'd have found a girl. Maybe they'd have fucked. He'd show us the pictures and even if she wasn't that pretty, we'd all die inside because we knew she liked him back and that was a million times more important than looks when you're growing up in a place where the only girls who talk to you share your surname.
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