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Monday morning

Slowly, Monday opens her eyes and blinks away the purple fog. The glass shoe is in glittery pieces on the black laminate floor, the charmed wine bottle is empty, her hair is a mess, and judging by the keys on the night table, the magic carriage is a Ford Fiesta. Carefully, she feels around with her left hand. THANK GOD. A sigh of relief. The beast is still sleeping next to her.

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