The Gallagher brothers caused a fitting ruckus, ducks were fed, I sat between my two best Summa Cum Laude friends, Wes Weaver made fun of Stony Brook with four graduates of that school standing right there (e.g. every male in my family), and everyone made it home without EdGal throwing too much of a fit.
Oh, and I do feel the gap already.
I'm at work on something "real" right now. Of course I am. What else would I do -- accept the claustrophobia?
I want to write because I've always got energy, because I don't see anything else moving right now, because it will help me hover just a bit above boredom and a good deal above sadness, because I've got time and motivation and have yet to choke these out of myself.
Nobody knows what to say. You could be silent forever and still a character who fascinates me.
Because it all went down so beautifully.
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