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Summary
Simon had promised himself that if he ever lived long enough to be satisfied with his life, he'd go and piss on his father's grave.
He wouldn't show up with nothing to shove down the man's throat, no matter how dead it was. No, Simon would go there with a trophy in his hand, rub it nicely where the Riley name was just about to fade, and then piss on it.
However, Simon drifted past his thirties with nothing meaningful in his cards—the same shitty hand life had dealt him from the start.
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Or; Simon heals.