Ten.One Thousand, Three Hundred & Forty-Nine
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The good news is that the sun will be up soon.
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Stress baking blueberry scones. I move slowly. I know the recipe by heart.
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That strange feeling in the chest and throat. Anxiety. I don’t think it’s the decaf.
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I reread it six times before hitting send.
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He says that the best thing about COVID was seeing his neighbors make time to play outside with their kids and being able to have lunch with his wife without worrying about tomorrow. I remove my glasses and dab my eyes with my napkin. “He’s going to think he made you cry.” “He did. He did make me cry.”
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More tears. This is unprofessional to do, but I don’t care. It’s okay to be moved. It’s okay to be real.
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Fresh dough from the local pizza joint.
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Her.
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I tell him that I cried. I tell him that her grandmother’s middle name is the same as his mother’s middle name. Not a coincidence, right?
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“She’s not hungry because she’s had an emotional day. She’s cried twice today,” the children say. Such a weird thing to witness my children witnessing me.