The embers die when I crush the butt with my boot. I swing the door open never knowing what to expect. Nothing but trash today. The old metal stairs creak as I climb them. In my apartment I slip off my boots. I make coffee. I take a mug to my desk. I tap the keys to find myself.
Lovers in swan shaped boats paddle along the canal. The late afternoon sun shimmers on the surface. Hordes of people wander the banks in various states of undress. They walk dogs and hold hands and hurriedly eat ice cream before it drips down the cone. Simple pleasures cure the lives we lead.
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