Ten.One Thousand, Six Hundred & Twelve
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Rain, rain, rain.
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I decide on an olive oil cake. Grapefruit. Will use up the lemon-infused olive oil. So, really, a citrus olive oil cake.
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Weak coffee.
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Rising waters but not as bad as last time.
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I hear what they are saying, but I feel something different.
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He’s chatty for someone working so early in the morning. He says we look familiar. We talk about having three kids but his are way younger than mine. I finish paying and he steps away. When he comes back, he hands me a bouquet of flowers.
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More rain.
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Chicken Tortilla Soup.
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Maybe we’re doing an okay job.
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Feeling the expanse of time.