People that spin rousing narratives about where hearts might go when they fall off our sleeves, the places we live when we’ve lost our home address, and the ironies that snicker rather loudly when we call ourselves adults. Maybe it’s coming of age when you’ve already gotten there, getting back to your roots when they’ve long been ripped up, or
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i miss you.
love, katie
ps long live slippery courderoy!
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