24. The One Where Delilah's Past Bites

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❝Most of us regard good luck as our rightand bad luck as betrayal of that right❞

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❝Most of us regard good luck as our right
and bad luck as betrayal of that right❞

-William Feather

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🗝DELILAH 🗝

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"I'm through with this," I hollered, storming out of the bathroom and making a beeline for Ziyan's bedroom. I had zero patience for him and hadn't thought twice before banging my fists to the door. "I know you're in there!"

His brown hair was tousled, remaining in a stiff upright position. He rubbed his eyes, yawning at me as he spoke. "Geez, one knock would've been fine, lunatic. What's up with you?"

"I want my razor back." I demanded. "Give it to me."

"I don't have your razor."

"Bullshit. You have my razor and I know you do. Every time you have a lined-up beard my razor always magically disappears from the bathroom. Don't lie to me. I'm not in the mood, Ziyan."

"You're delusional. Why am I the one who took it?"

"I've stated my reasons," I said, extending my hand to him. "Now cough it up, thief."

"I'm not a thief. This," he scoffed, "is ridiculous. You're making a fool out of yourself."

He pulled on his door to close it, but as he did that, I rammed my foot to cause a blockage. Squeezing in past him, I forcibly made my way into the room while Ziyan protested the entire time. I was tinier than him, making it easier for me to slip right past him and rush to his waste basket. Just as I had predicted, my pink razor sat at the base of the black trash bag, clogged with black facial hair. I plucked it out of the basket, gagging at the sight of the perfectly good razor that had gone to complete waste.

"You monster."

"I was going to replace it, I swear," he sighed, "I didn't think it was yours to begin with. Brenda's pretty chill when I use hers and—"

"I'm not Brenda," I boomed.

"Your bitchiness confirms that enough. Brenda isn't like you."

I flung the razor at him, winning a glorious cry in fear as it went sailing in his direction. He let it fall to his feet, scoffing when it reached the floor. "You're only proving my point even more."

"You're not the best person to be around either, thief." I seethed, brushing past him and going in to the hallway. I was running late for class already. My sociology professor was handing out an assessment on global inequality at the beginning of class. I knew I had to hurry and stop blabbering with people who weren't worth my time. "Why don't you get a job and buy your own razors? Oh, wait, I forgot. You don't have one."

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