Your notebooks were filled with the same chicken scratch life plans: getting the fuck away from here.
The Clubhouse
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Spring Cleaning | Sharks In The Shower
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We left every room in disarray, clothes thrown over chairs – dirtied outfits awaiting better days. Our nightstands heavy with dogeared paperbacks, each page a reminder that our love withered months before. The kitchen was a dive bar. Counters cork-cluttered, sticky with botanicals. I felt as useful as a barfly. Such a mess we made, falling out of love. I...