The row on row of IBM Selectrics clacking the smell is still with me hanging like the memory of disappointment 3rd period typing. The dot com bubble still a decade or more away why the hell would I want to learn to type? I wanted to be a boss not a slave. To be young again.
It was, you were right, a sparrow's song. Of course I knew you'd been gone for years where did you go? I had, as you know, gone nowhere or rather went with me wherever I went but you you left us both. I will likely never forgive you or myself. I'm sorry. Please come home.
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