Overheard on the way to class: "How much of a ride do you need? I've got four eighths of a ride." "What?" "How much ride do you need?" "Oh! I only need an eighth."
It's taken me a while to realize this, maybe I'm slow. . . but when I was leaving Sacramento last night, Santa Cruz-bound, that little aching feeling I had at the bottom of my tummy actually meant something. I wasn't "hungry" like I usually am; trying my best to put off the trip until I'm too busy procrastinating to even grab a small snack before
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