Ten.One Thousand, Five Hundred & Eighty-One
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Early, but not as early.
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Cold feet. Where are my slippers?
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Burnt bacon. That seems about right for a week like this one.
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Graduated to the parking lot.
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I end up saying a lot more than I meant to say, but it was a lot of truth, and that was necessary for explaining the whole thing.
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Tasting Malbec from the keg and this is when I get wine on the sweater.
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A little panicked.
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We stand by the doors and watch him play with the big kids. The big, big kids. He doesn’t look so small running with the 16- and 17-year olds. “He’ll be here next year, you know,” I say. “I know.” “High school. High school,” I say.
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Just can’t seem to look away.
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“I can’t believe tomorrow is the last day.”