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  • I can't tell you how much I love my kitchen sink. It's one of the reasons I rented this apartment - that, and my vintage stove.

    Sometimes I stand at the sink and I imagine all the sinkfulls of dishes that have been washed before mine. I'm not sure when my home was built, but the nearby elementary school has the date "1914" on its side. So say the apartment's 90 years old, plus or minus ten years on either side. That's a lot of dishwater.

    Sometimes I stand at the sink and wonder about the lives of the people who lived here. How many people? Whole families? Couples? Singles?

    Sometimes I stand at the sink and wish I could slip inside their lives like a thief - not to take anything from them, but to quietly, quietly watch, like a fly on the wall.

    Sometimes I stand at the sink and I wash my hair.

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