The flavor of breakfast was suburban malaise. Spread across spoilberry toast bread. My mottled shadow left the house before I did. Leaving empty rooms that I can't stand to be in, and am loathe to leave. The early fall clouds shone piercing silver judgment across the entire two-lane backroad. They arranged themselves into castles and bastions. Looming across my day like silent gray overlords.
11:41 a.m. - 2016-10-10
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