Photography of Shawn Michienzi

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It was Wednesday, just after noon. The seediest fleabag in town, The Seville, which boasted of fireproof rooms on their marquee. Harry had answered the classified ad which read "Married white female needs a redblooded man who knows what to do with a woman. Husband certainly isn’t doing the job." He felt a mixture of excitement and trepidation as he unlocked the door to room number 112. He felt alive. The door swung open. "Margaret?!! What the hell are you doing here?"