I hated being in Wind Gap, but home held no comfort either
I kept my eyes closed and imagined myself back in Chicago, on my rickety slice of a bed in my studio apartment facing the brick back of a supermarket. I had a cardboard dresser purchased at that supermarket when I moved in four years ago, and a plastic table on which I ate from a set of weightless yellow plates and bent, tinny flatware. I worried that I hadnt watered my lone plant, a slightly yellow fern Id found by my neighbors trash. Then I remembered Id tossed the dead thing out two months ago.
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