Ten.One Thousand, Four Hundred & Fifty-Eight
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Phone buzzing at 4:00am. His Discord app. That’s odd; doesn’t seem like the kind of person to be sneaking game time this early or late.
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Grateful that the trash comes later and later these days. Plenty of time to get the cans out since we can never remember to take them out the night before.
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He questions my use of maple syrup on the maple sausage.
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Scattered.
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I think back to standing there beside her with hands in my pockets, her asking me what I do - what I really do - and I have no answer. “You’re an artist,” she says. Yes. Maybe? Yes.
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Daydreams of flowy dresses.
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He asks me what’s after my name. I am confused. Then he shows me his phone, pointing to my email signature. I explain that they are gender pronouns. That we’re trying our best to be inclusive and think about how we communicate that in even these small ways.
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The best way to get your kid to clean their room is to tell them a friend is coming over.
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They decide on Sushi from sunshine. We eat on the bleachers at the baseball field. It’s still only the first inning. It’s shaping up to be a good one.
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I say that it’s because I wanted him to be outside and with people and not the video games. I tell her that it’s more of a community event. Or, at least it feels that way to me, today.
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Torres Selecta Cured Cheese Premium Potato Chips.