The inner dialogue of a sleepy 20-something

It’s 10 p.m. on a Wednesday and I am ready for bed; lights out, and Neosporin on my legs because I fear that the sand flea bites I brought home from Puerto Rico will scar. I’m thinking about reading, but also about Zebra Cakes.

The strangers outside are too loud.

I do ten sit-ups in my head and wonder what Wayne Brady is doing now.

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One Comment on “The inner dialogue of a sleepy 20-something

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