Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Seventy-One
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Finally Friday.
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He texts me to say that he found his backpack. A little rascal took it.
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He tells me that running away from something is never a good idea. Leave because you’ve been called. I remind him that they did call me.
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Boundaries.
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If only I hadn’t heard these exact same words over and over again, I might feel more relieved instead of angry.
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Two carnitas, one camarones, two flautas. Grapefruit Jarritos.
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The thing is, I never put my name on something I don’t believe in.
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If you’re not taking it personally, then why are you calling me?
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He bobbles the first catch. But the next two are for touchdowns.
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We all keep taking pictures of the moon, so big and white and clear, hovering over mountains. The colors of the sky are soft, muted. Like looking at an old polaroid.
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Gratitude for a little bit of my spirit returning. Still not myself, but better than the day before.