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  • I was tired, and I was happy.
    I would always find myself sleeping on the trains.
    Eyelids heavy.

    I loved my work.
    A bookshop.
    Jam & Jerusalem meets Black Books.

    I went to church every Sunday.
    Fighting the pavement frost with my scuffed shoes.
    I sang in the choir.
    White robes. Long blond hair and red lips.
    Hosanna in the highest.

    I ran on the treadmill. Pacing to U2.
    Hours on end.
    Sweat on my eyelids.

    I ran for trains.
    Sleeping on the way to the capital.
    Meeting Z.
    Drinking espresso martinis.
    Sleeping on the train home.

    I was so incredibly happy.
    I felt I belonged.
    But everyone kept telling me that I was waiting.
    That none of this was real.
    I didn't understand.

    Then the phone rang.
    I answered,
    and then I understood.
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