fin

I’m knitting, listening to sad songs next to sleeping cat and reading boyfriend, smoking and drinking rye with my tea.

I really miss sp every year when it gets cold out and things get more like they were when he died. The city and the park and the songs and I saw someone Saturday at that awkward show party thing that looked and acted like him, maybe a little meaner though. More cynical and less smiles, but maybe the world would have made him like that if he lived for a few more years. I like to think not.

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