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  • the beach chair

    Cathy rolled her eyes, glancing at the clock. She wondered how much longer she needed to do this before she could complain to her boss about having to get back home. She lived on the other side of the reserve and it wasn’t a short drive. Especially after this. He winced as she began to scrub his skin with lotion. His name was Jerry. Or Jeremy. Or Jacob.

    November 28, 2012
     - By Francesca
  • What I see

    There is a chair opposite me. Its weathered upholstered seat looks recently sat in. At its feet, embedded in the dark carpet is what appears to be a sprinkle of sand. I get down on my knees and pick up some of the grains in my fingertips. They are course. Is there a beach nearby? Did I go to the beach this morning?

    November 12, 2012
     - By citizenjoe

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