For some reason, and I have no idea why, I woke up thinking about my freshman lunch table. Not the happy Monday SMT table, not the grade school- outskirt-of-cool-pseudo-smoker/drinker-people-I-stopped-talking-to table. But the fact that I was a malcontent expait, a defector. To just one day get up, leave some people behind, and not look back. Those
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