
torn pages from an Agatha Christie mystery, used train ticket for the time stamp, other ticket bits, and the cherry (a Minneapolis icon, from the Spoonbridge and Cherry sculpture) is from a candy box wrapper.

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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