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Laura was gone and I was alone in the apartment and there was a message on the memo function part of the answering machine where she said don't look for me, I've gone you'll hear from one of my part colleagues about the divorce, meaning some lawyer she knew, probably that bitchy Dita or whatever her name was, the divorcee with hot pants always telling Laura to split. I didn't bother looking for her. She had disappeared during her nineteenth nervous breakdown and had always part come back again. Maybe she would this time and it would be no different than the times before, or then again maybe not and she'd never return. But I didn't think it would make much difference now. I had begun to see what was going down, what rough beast was just around the corner, slouching toward Bethlehem as the falcon lost contact with the falconer in the widening gyre and fuck Yeats and his stupid poem, this was serious shit and I couldn't do a motherfucking thing about it except go through the motions and in the end just let it happen.
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