TagParanoia

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Ten-Thirty at night. It’s not that late. Scratched eyeglasses hang between my black jacket and rests on the red sweatshirt as I take my nightly walk around the block. By the side of me, an aging mutt is anchored to a nylon leash. Oreo is my companion for the evening. He pants heavily with a dry tongue that almost hangs down past that growth on his leg. I let the slack go looser, then tell him...

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