Murray's fist brushed past Corley's cheekbone with a dull thud.
As Murray raised his fist for a second blow, Corley grabbed his collar, yanked hard, and nearly knocked him down.
Corley took the opportunity to step back and create some distance.
"Damn," he muttered, touching the sore spot on his cheekbone.
"Murray, have you lost your mind?!"
"You're asking for it!"
Corley smirked, seeing Murray grinding his teeth in rage. Understanding the cause, his smirk widened even more. "Saw everything, did you?"
Murray raised his fist again, his eyes bloodshot with anger.
"What? Can't handle it? You know, scenes like this will happen over and over, even bigger than this. What's your plan? Hit me every time you see me?"
"But what's the point? Does hitting me stop anything from happening?"
Murray's chest heaved with suppressed rage. If looks could kill, Corley would have been dead a thousand times over.
Suddenly calming down, Murray asked, "So, Roseanne agreed to be with you?"
Corley's smile faltered.
Now, it was Murray's turn to laugh. "Seems she hasn't. You couldn't win her over back then; what makes you think you can now?"
I've been with her at least once. You? You're just skirting around, Corley. What's there for you to boast about? Happy with someone else's leftovers? Can't afford anything new, or just prefer hand-me-downs?"
Corley's smile vanished, and he stepped forward, grabbing Murray by the collar. "Say that again, I dare you!"
"Am I wrong?"
Corley, seething, replied, "You can say anything about me; I can take it. But keep her out of this—don't insult a woman who devoted six years of her youth and all her love and care to you!"
Murray let him hold on, a cold smirk appearing on his lips. "Admit it, you're just jealous. Jealous that I had her for six whole years."
"Jealous? Ha, why would I be jealous of a loser who couldn't keep her after six years?"
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