November 17th: On my own

But, after what seemed like the millionth Tinder text that began and ended with ‘are you good at sucking dicks’, reading in bed seemed far too mild an evening. Especially since I was now put in a mood to stab someone in the balls.

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An Ode to Coffee

Those days, my uncle would come home from work nearby for lunch. There was always a good, strong cup of sugared black coffee waiting for him in the fridge, and five-year-old-me figured out that if I stood by the fridge and waited for him, he’d let me have a few sips.

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