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Narcissi looked at the two cats she was now supposedly in charge of - like the marriage she had had.
The second one.
They were only here because she had poor boundaries, and couldn't say no to something that clung to her so needy and cuddled so well.
She had done another walk around the victory lap. Cold had entered the forecast again, and she donned her Oakland hat and noted that the strange neighbors with the Bernie bumper sticker continued to maintain their Christmas decorations well into this 22nd day of February.
The last Christmas I was married to a man I married so I wouldn't be alone in my later life; the left the 1960's vintage tinsel tree that I refused to help him dismantle (I had done so much before) up until March.
It was weird. We were a passive battle.
and the one I love now (please god let it be over soon) wanted to secretly be a singer.
She wept at 54 years old listening to a song she used to roller skate to at 12 years old... "never wanted to be your weekend lover". She didn't understand anything then, but she knew. She could feel the feeling, and she had seen more than many many kids.
f. Scott Fitzgerald almost depressed her more than Joan Didion, but at least he was less caustic and thus easier to read.
the day. the evening. the trying.
Whatever floated a boat.
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