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  • I wake up in the middle of the night and can't sleep. I have so much to write. I worry that I won't have the chance to say it all. I worry that I'll say it wrong.

    Anxiety lodges in my chest like French fries eaten too fast at a highway rest stop. I turn on the light to drive away the sleep trespassers.

    One of the cats walks across my ribs, and curls into my body's apostrophe, nonplussed.
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