“I’ve been to places so remote that there are no ghosts,
There is no love,
With no memory of anything good,
That is the place, or places I go,
To get away,
And find myself,
but it isn’t working,
but I still like to go there.
It is where I go,
I didn’t think anyone would understand except you.
The orange cat my brother Andy called Nimrod sat on the counter singing the song of dinnertime. Nimrod had showed up three weeks prior after being left by his previous owners in a two million dollar foreclosure. What a bunch of assholes abandoning a cat to chance.
The baby unicorn that was supposed to be a temporary occupant was still there after almost a year. It padded on soft hooves behind him like a iridescent shadow.
After living alone for so long and…
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