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My spoon tinkles and finds sanctity in the mug. I toss a dollar to the waitress and smile at her on my way out. Nothing. Nothing but the blank face I always get from that ***** I don't know why I bother going back to that place. As I leave, I hurt a little and realise that it's the only home I have. What a ******* sorry state of affairs. I leave the diner and turn up my collar. The rain spots my glasses but I'm not sure if I care. **** could be a lot worse.
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Jun 7, 2011
Jun 7, 2011 at 5:01 PM UTC
A Shitsville Narrative, part three.
My spoon tinkles and finds sanctity in the mug. I toss a dollar to the waitress and smile at her on my way out. Nothing. Nothing but the blank face I always get from that ***** I don't know why I bother going back to that place. As I leave, I hurt a little and realise that it's the only home I have. What a ******* sorry state of affairs. I leave the diner and turn up my collar. The rain spots my glasses but I'm not sure if I care. **** could be a lot worse.
Part three of fifteen.
louis-pollard
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Jun 7, 2011
Jun 7, 2011 at 5:01 PM UTC
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