The trudge from the front door of the house to the car in the driveway felt like a mile. We sat in quiet radio repose, and were washed by dozens of nameless headlights. We leaned drunkenly against one another for support in the early winter chill. We chased each other for hours, picking up after one another's broken parts. They fell off without clatter or apology. We stuck them back on with carefree laughter, most of the pieces interchangeable. We returned home slightly newer than before, remade by proxy of clean exhaustion.
10:01 p.m. - 2015-11-24
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