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I refuse this New Year. This comforter will hold me in place. These books will bind me to this wretched house and I will never acknowledge this New Year.

A few more nips of this whiskey and it’ll all be black again.

“Wake up, the kids need their diapers changed and you have to start writing. We’ve got bills to pay.”

She’s back. The evil nightmare I fear every morning. My partner.

 

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