A couple years ago I was feeling nostalgic and drove past my old place in Kingsland, which was renovated and sold shortly after I moved out. For only being there several years, that house was like the representation of my past life; my ex and her little touches here and there, the unused nursery, fire pit where we’d always have friends around who were like ghosts after the divorce. Cathartic experience.
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No, no…I’m not sloppy, or lazy. This is a sign of the boredom.
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