Do Not Click On This

Another DayClark woke, as he always did, exactly three minutes before his alarm went off. He lay there in the cool sheets, dutifully staring at the clock until it unerringly sounded its intrusive morning whine, and he calmly shut it off. He got out of bed and wandered towards the bathroom. He caught a glimpse of his Adonis-like body in the full-length mirror and snorted with disgust. Carl, another reporter at the Planet, worked out every day for two hours and had almost as good a body. He had pestered Clark to work out with him in the break room for weeks, and Clark had finally agreed. For a few daysAnother Day
Devious Comments
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My mad dancing skillz
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Art is the breath of life.
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Art is the breath of life.
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