I feel a sense of pride when I do laundry and am not missing any socks.
Today the sun is soft and the wind has a hint of the coming crisp nights. The dog days drag along and I am languid, silent. I shop for fall: burnt orange, deep turquoise, white; notebooks, index cards, books. I move in to focus.
I see the echo of your voice in narrow shoes and have secrets that I whisper to shop mannequins. Their open eyed stares tell me tell me to exercise and wear more red.
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