Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Ninety-Nine
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In the dream, I am hiding in a closet and whispering. I am in hiding but I am worried they will not believe me.
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Actual words exchanged.
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Might be the last time I have to scramble to iron his white button-down for a time.
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“Surprise, surprise / Couldn't find it in your eyes / But I'm sure it's written all over my face / Surprise, surprise / Never something I could hide / When I see we made it through another day”
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Is this “quiet quitting”? No. It’s just setting a better boundary for myself.
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At least I have her, though.
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But, then again, there is this.
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Some sense of stability would be nice.
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Last game. One touchdown.
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Almost full moon. Cold breezes. Hot hands in my pockets. The feeling of a light mist hitting my face. It’s finished.