Ten.One Thousand & Thirty-Six
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Tuesday. Tuesday? Yes. 
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Bird song sneaking in through the open windows. Sky changing from indigo to worn denim. 
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Sweater over shorts. I try to wake him up at 6, like he asked. I rub his soft cheek. He still has a little bit of baby fat. He asks for five more minutes. 
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One, two, three, four, five. A small cluster on the bricks that surround the empty pond. No more lemons on the ground. 
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Grocery delivery. Should I even still be doing this? But the last time at the hardware store…I just couldn’t. 
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Zoom calls across time zones. I miss them. 
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She tells me she can talk on Thursday, that she’s sensing that I have some things I need to talk about. She’s not wrong. There is a lot. There is so much. 
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I blame the margarita for the loose fingers. He chuckles to himself, says something about famous writers being drinkers. 
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I really these tacos had shrimp in them. 
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Almost every ear is dog-eared. How could this be the first time I’m reading this? I will pass then down on to her.