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  • The faint click of the record player pulls me out of the book.
    there must be a piece loose, some hidden cog slightly out of place.
    I picture what the inside of the record player looks like, wires and gears.

    The tap tap tap of the branch against my window pulls me out of sleep.

    The glare of the sun snaps me back to attention. I had dozed off during the long bus ride to the airport. The back and forth waves of the bus along the hillsides and the Bill Evans in my headphones was a lullaby. Waking up from the hot sun and the flash of light, I tried to guess from the road signs how close we were. A few more hours.

    The fresh green slowly pushes, unnoticeable until you can't ignore it. It seems like overnight. One day bare earth. the next, spears of growth. and soon we will have green beans.
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