not at home

i've officially moved from my home town to a city of commuters. this is where people move constantly and seamlessly into the night as if they were made of lights.

i've developed a new habit of breakfast in the kiosk underneath my apartment, where there are always $1 cigarettes, tea, and blackbirds tittering on the pavement. the hardest part of living alone would be taking out the trash and washing stains on the sink with a bar of soap that i have actually reserved for my skin.

everyone thinks my life is charming but i don't think sleeping with the gentle, sad sound of the washing machine on is.

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