I miss Fridays. I miss the designated two hours, the safe spot in my week when I can and must paint, or face the consequences of not looking busy enough. I miss standing in front of the teapot for the first of my two or three cups of black, watching a girl half my age recklessly spooning sugar into her own mug. I've been using a clear pressed-
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Speaking of which, she left me a voicemail with a message for you too. I'll call you tomorrow.
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