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I pause between sips of cold coffee and take note of my lips staring back at me from the black lid of my styrofoam cup. A puckered shape that helps me envision myself drinking like an old woman.

A jackhammer wrinkles sound through the chair and trembles keys beneath my fingers like braille.

Tan lines are showing shamelessly. This linen skirt is rumpled and creased. There's only a hint of makeup on me which includes a disappearing mouth.

It's a good day.
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