“When I said that I liked a good cliffhanger, I didn’t mean a house!” he said to his realty agent.
She combed her peroxide locks with her perfectly manicured hand, displaying her long and expensive cherry red nails. “Well, this house is on a cliff.” She smiled a dazzling bleached white smile of perfect teeth. She hadn’t been top in sales for no reason.
He was flustered. “Uh,” he stammered. “I told you I am a screenwriter, right?”
“Yes, you did.”
They stood looking at one another. She started down the 200 steps in her high heels. He scratched his head.
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