Ten.One Thousand, One Hundred & Thirty-Eight
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I think I see lightning.
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Rain drop on nose.
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How to describe the shade of red on the woodpeckers? Saying “red” doesn’t feel adequate. Carmine? Cornell? Fire Brick? Madder? Turkey Red?
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I don’t have enough eggs. It’s overcast. It’s going to rain. This is not normal. It’s my curse.
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I could live here forever.
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Well, I’m definitely not going to hear anything now.
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A wine barrel painted black. In white letters, “BLM.”
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Belated birthday dinner of smoked chicken, broccoli, and rice.
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I ask him if it’s my imagination or are there more “Black Lives Matter” signs here than the last town.
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Cookies and cream ice cream cake. Something like a cool breeze.