October! A flash in the pan I can’t ever quite scrub clean. Even now, it’s soaking in my sink. I knocked over a very full, very large cup of coffee on the white marble counter at my neighborhood cafe earlier this month and haven’t been back since. I drank the perfect amount of martinis at my favorite bar. I had four blueberry muffins and an unrelated stomach bug. I turned twenty-eight and had chocolate cake for breakfast. A new supermarket is opening down the street and the leaves on the trees outside of our windows are dying and both make me feel a little blue. This is the month when our treehouse is laid bare. October is trying to convince myself endings don’t make me sad. But they should, shouldn’t they? Endings are sad. Meg Ryan is my roman empire. I saw a man named Gregory sing a song about a black car. I dressed as Wednesday Addams the Saturday before Halloween but
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