Nothing on this earth that I love like I love you
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I am sure construction will resume tomorrow morning at unspeakable hours—our street is a tableau of traffic cones, earth-moving equipment parked for the night, patch asphalt, metal plates, and an extremely large pile of dirt—but soft-serve at dusk is also important.

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I wish you sleep. It's never that easy but it's heartfelt.
P.
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