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Greetings from the Matchbox,
where Kristina is hard at work pouring coffee, cutting oatmeal fudge, and
spinning Leonard Cohen records. There was a painting in the bathroom, a gift
for a friend. It feels good here, the throb of the refrigerators, icebox
covered with snapshots and clippings, postcards for artist friends' openings.
The sun is on the sidewalk but doesn't come closer than that, the yellow
walls keep the light even inside. Smoking is allowed, ashtrays on the stainless
steel counter and glasstopped tables.
Sarah stretches her legs, takes up two shiny red
metallic vinyl upholstered stools. We're getting directions to the Autodriveaway
office to get our deposit back for the 2000 Dodge Caravan we drove here from
Chicago. Nice day for a bikeride and I hope to go with Monte when he gets
off work at Brian's foundry where he's putting the finishing touches on some
sculptures, the last bit of work before they get paid. Counter vibrates under
my hands--or is that just the caffeine? Hi Kristina!
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