Ten.One Thousand, Two Hundred & Fifty-Seven
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Weird flashes coming from his phone. I flip mine over to see if there’s some kind of emergency alert I should see.
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I use the Bialetti for the last bit of coffee.
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What are the necessary elements? Oxygen, Heat, and Fuel.
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“I left him the night of our eighth date when he came back to bed with a cookbook and started to flip through its pages. “I want to make you dinner,” is what he said. His eyes were green and sharp and bright. Parts of his ivory-skinned body still flush from touch. I quietly pretended to listen, but all I could hear was Blackbird fly, blackbird fly.”
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I miss the free write, she asks me to read the memory prompt.
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She’s right; there is more here. Maybe I can write an entire book.
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I thank her for being so patient. All these years later, and it finally clicks.
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Perfection isn’t required.
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He asks to snuggle and watch “Nailed It.” I agree.
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Pax Chenin Blanc in front of the fire. Can I just hold on to this?