
Some guy lost his underwear. How do you do that on the side of a steep hill? Actually, no. How do you lose your underwear at all? It must take some effort. And no, I don't live in the hood. Underwear does not just grow on trees around here.

Some mornings I wake up from this dream about a friend I haven't seen in 20-odd years, and my chest feels hollowed out with longing for him, for that connection. It feels deliciously right and disappointingly sad at the same time. It's a mystery.
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