131 feet. I sat at Quiet Storm this afternoon trying to picture just how far 131 feet was. 131 feet from the point of impact to the pool of blood where his body landed. How fast must she have been going to send him flying that far?
So I'll leave you all with my feminist angst:
I got a call today to work on Ambush Makeover. I can't in good conscience take this job, can I? Or do I take the job and find some way to sabotage them? Or does the need for a paycheck trump all the rest?