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failure is imminent

Why do all these women keep their offices so warm? I talked with someone for a half-hour today. Next week is her last week. But she also lives in my neighborhood. "I would LOVE to see what your apartment is like, Harold," she sort of blurted out. I suggested we meet for drinks soon. She seemed really enthusiastic about that. And she kept asking me all these questions about what I like to do in the evenings and on the weekends. I was caught a little off-guard by her questions and resorted to my usual cryptic answers while sweating and wondering why it was so goddamn hot in there. You know, nothing usually comes of these exchanges and vague plans to meet at some unspecified date. But I have often invoked her ghost in my late-night masturbatory concentrations.

Winter is coming. I would like to see the winter with her. See the winter with someone who causes me to spill words before I have even thought them.

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