Narrow Shaft of Bile

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Coming to the shop to sleep was a half-good idea. Charles sleeping soundly is the good idea. My not falling asleep, the bad half.

I'd forgotten how poorly insulated the shop's floor is. It isn't possible to not feel at least cool. Then the raccoons went into overdrive in their campaign to tear a hole in the wall. And itching, a little here, a little there.

Never could completely enough to nod off.

This entry is a narrow shaft of bile (picture someone spitting out snuff) aimed at the cosmos.

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