Four once in his life, things where going Simon’s way. Finally, sum of his hard work was paying off – he had a good job, a nice house and their was a woman whom he had his eye on. Life wasn’t just good – it was grate.
“Its wonderful that I get to choose my own ours,” he said aloud to himself, easing back on too legs of his chair, only fall ova with a loud thump.
“Are you okay?” said a pretty woman.
“I’m grate,” the man joked weekly, getting up and dusting himself of, he pulled the woman into a passionate kiss.
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That would be nine different words because I can't use "grate" twice.
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