Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Eighty-Three
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I keep trying to work myself back into the dream.
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I know what it means.
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These quiet morning drives into town as the sun rises. I do love a winter sky.
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Too hot for pants. t
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Sometimes I over-communicate.
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Feeling a little trapped.
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If she’s on vacation, who am I going to talk to every day?
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Oh, boy. We’re in trouble.
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Exactly an hour.
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“It’s gone a bit wayward.”