After leaving Sally’s house, I drove to my office. While I’m not happy about how I ended up helping the woman, I’m reminded of a movie where the mob protagonist complains about trying to get away, but they keep pulling him back into the middle of everything.
“Sure, I should walk away,” I said aloud to the noise inside the car. “But I can’t let that bastard just do that to someone who asked for my help, could I?”
Yeah, but now I can get killed. Me and my damn screwed up moral dilemmas!
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