Ten.One Thousand, Five Hundred & Seventy-Six
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So cold.
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Out of coffee.
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Empty streets. Catching the colors of sunrise.
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No one is here yet.
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Part of the frustration is my own fault. Did I communicate effectively? Did I make assumptions? How do we not have it happen again? Was the buy-in is not as strong as I thought?
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More coffee.
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Everywhere I go, I am cold.
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Inside my head, there exists a list of things that must be done but I cannot see the words. Too tired to think, I think.
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I make a pot of tea and find a collection of stories by Alice Munro to read. This one is dog-eared. I will start with this one.
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Lights on. Voices. He’s rummaging through baskets of clothes. I yell at him to move faster, he’s taking too long, his friends are waiting.