Dear Bread Knife,
Never let it be said that I do not respect you. I have great respect for you... and the pain you can inflict upon my hands. I also hate, loathe, and despise you. I resent my dependence upon you in order to provide the bread my customers crave. I realize that I may be bitter, after all I need you more than you need me. You have proved this time and again with a thousand small cuts. Now I believe our relationship has reached an abusive stage. You forced me to spend my night in the E.R. What really hurts is that we both know by next week I will be wielding you again and hoping that you don't feel like drawing even more of my blood.
Sincerely,
The Waitress
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