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I would enjoy listening to a good story about my first encounter with JJ. I ran into her with a slightly charming eye contact thing I had been working on, and then she certainly fell in love with me.
"Everyone is in love with you," she dared to tell me a few times with out a trace of sarcasm or other means of most dignified deception for any reason whatsoever, so I began to believe her after seven or eight years, and a few days later, I asked her if she could back that up.
She hasn't spoken about it since, and I am beginning to get suspiciously bored with the concept altogether. So I forgave myself after she beat me at ice hockey and psychological meanderings. We are pretty ridiciously luck, we say to ourselves.


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Writing Exercise #117

Mas o Menos by w. clark

I had made an important decision that drizzly December lunch our, a choice that might have been a major turning point, or one that made me realize I couldn’t trust myself, control molecular mutations that were implanted in my DNA, but were fertilized by the irony of life and made me older, smarter, and a riddle unto my own psyche.
I left the office promptly at 11:45 am and it took the usual 3 minutes to get from my desk to the elevator to the front door and down the dozen stairs to the front green and I swiftly broke right up Maroon Hill two blocks west, slushing hurriedly up to the garden gates, and then made haste past the goat petting zoo.
Temporary images whirled past me as I lost more seconds of my hour and tore down to the Landing, the hillside slanted toward sea level and my spine started to burn as my speed increased, the spring humidity filling my lungs with heavy water and my terror elevated to a state of shocking horror for that which broke so many on…

“Allison Road” cover by Dos Locos