Ten.One Thousand, Three Hundred & Seventy-Eight
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Weary.
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I drink my coffee slowly, watch the oat milk foam drift.
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Excuses.
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The more they talk, the more I realize just how little work they’ve done to understand the issues at hand.
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Remembering that it makes people more uncomfortable when you remain so calm.
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I have him take me to The Station for a ham and cheese croissant and a chai latte because I’m just eating my feelings.
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Second shot done.
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“Excuse me. Was that gentleman back there your husband?” “Yes.” “Okay. Have a great day.” He walks away. “Today has been a weird day.”
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But this view.
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So tired.