Ten.Eight Hundred & Nineteen
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Today.
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It’s even cold for me. I walk to the windows and slide them shut but I still love the cool air in the morning.
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List making. Just enough to get through dinner today and breakfast tomorrow. I trust they can manage the rest on their own. I’ll give some ideas. Would he call it advocating for myself if I said, “you need to figure it out on your own this week”?
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I love the way the morning sun bursts through the trees in the cul-de-sac. So bright and golden, it almost sparkles.
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Nerves.
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“I’ll notice you,” I say as I make my way to the terminal and to her. So good to see her in the flesh again.
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The weather is quite perfect and it will be quite perfect this entire week. Thank the gods and goddesses, the universe, everything that has conspired to make this week happen.
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Just don’t answer the phone.
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I burn the focaccia but it didn’t rise anyway. The chicken is just right. The tomatoes are just right. The corn is sweet. The wine is good.
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I need another way of being.