flying and crying

In Chicago. Apparently my favored activity while suspended thousands of miles in the air with someone’s elbow in my armpit is, now, to cry- silently, with dignity- while curled under a long black woolen coat.

I miss him.

I broke my record player.

I lost my phone.

If you are trying to contact me and I seem to be ignoring you this weekend, that’s why.

See a few of y’all with my sodden coat tomorrow night.

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