Sometimes I just want one place. One place that I can call home. This transient apartment, this vagabond apartment, this white-washed suffocating apartment, does not constitute a home. Kevin's littered, sticky hippie fraternity house is not a home, as much as he would wish it to be. My father's barren, back-country house is not my home. My mother's
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Will you be in Fort Wayne around Christmas? What are your plans?
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