The day after the fourth of July

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The day after the fourth of July

The day after the fourth of July

It’s July Fifth, feels a lot like Monday, and hot out. The air is a sticky gray, and I somehow made it to work. I can’t even remember dressing in the bathroom. I swore when I left my house that I was going to be careful because driving while barely awake is dangerous. With the days’s food piled in my lunchbag, I walked inside the building. It was hopeless, and I was in sandals. The elevator was too empty to bear, never mind keep awake in; I didn’t even have head space because of sleep deprivation… I leaned against the

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