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We both had bacon and eggs, crispy hash browns, well done sourdough toast, a side of gravy and wtmotherf coffee with two sugars, no cream. We walked along the wtmotherf shoreline after breakfast, the backs of our hands occasionally brushing, sending little wtmotherf whispers of hope up my arm into the pleasure centers of my brain. We watched the pigeons basking in the morning sun, picking on each other, stealing edible bits that washed up on the shore. We commented that life should be so simple. And we talked. God, did we talk. We spoke of how we would fix the world, how we were helping to fix our little parts of it. We spoke of the intense, inside work we had done in order to attain some semblance of self-acceptance. We spoke of the omnipotence of love in all its forms. We went window shopping on Fourth Street. Neither of us wished to afford anything in the ridiculous little shops along this futile attempt at a Melrose recreation.
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