Ten.Seven Hundred & Seventy-Seven
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Oops.
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Quiet. No dogs barking—yet. I open up the windows to let in the cool morning air.
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Tulsi tea. Not even missing coffee. That’s a lie. I do miss coffee. But I’m not desperate for it. That’s a lie. I am desperate for a cup of it on a morning that calls for a sweater and a near-empty to-do list.
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It’s nice to be a passenger.
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I just don’t think I could ever get over this.
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Syrah, syrah, and more syrah.
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I may or may not know what I’m talking about.
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How much longer?
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Hammock time. It’s been too long. The sound of the air conditioning kicking on keeps waking me.
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Context matters.