Ten.One Thousand, Three Hundred & One
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The floor is so cold I have to put my socks on right away.
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I’ve stopped counting how many days it’s been. I’m craving a cup of coffee. But I know I shouldn’t. But I want it. But I can’t.
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I don’t.
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The sound of the rain. The tiny waves in the pond below. Fog weaving through the trees.
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Look at all that bulk juice for sale. Yep. It’s who I thought it was.
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Someone asks me if the glass has wine. I laugh. Then I go back to the picture. Cranberry juice, cranberry juice. Do I need to make a disclaimer? I am not a day-drinker.
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More meetings should be done over tea.
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He asks me to talk about what I did, specifically. I tell them that after getting my prescription, I don’t really remember what I did. Only that it was work. And then, I was able to try something new with my lights and camera and I got really close to the real deal. I did something new and that was exciting.
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No one else seems to have much to say.
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I sit on the bathroom floor in front of the heater and read through old Instagram posts. I miss my writing. That kind of writing. I miss the old days when you got to watch people make art with their life.