Jamie plonked the shirt on the counter and coolly told the cashier he wanted to return it. The girl looked at him, swallowed, and muttered, “Erm, you can’t return it if you’ve worn it—” “The stitching is coming undone. I’ve worn it once. It’s shoddy,” Jamie told her. In truth, there was nothing wrong with the stitching aside from the portion he’d unpicked by hand. It hadn’t been easy either; the quality of the garment was, in fact, annoyingly high. The truth was, Jamie had spent the last of his allowance on clothes and left himself short. Now he c
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