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August sixth. I showed Simone what I wrote. Not the post as published, the draft. The messy one, the one I wrote two Saturdays ago with my coffee getting cold and the apartment to…
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August sixth. I showed Simone what I wrote. Not the post as published, the draft. The messy one, the one I wrote two Saturdays ago with my coffee getting cold and the apartment to…
Read entryNine in the morning and it was twenty-eight degrees. I know because I checked my phone before I left and stood in the kitchen for a full minute deciding whether I actually wanted…
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