outside I sit smoking a cigarette, reading my magazine instead of the book I brought, and drinking a beer. After my cigarette I go back inside and have to travel back to my room to dispose of the butt. on my way i pass through two rooms and a hallway. The book goes on a tabletop in the sun room, the beer in the counter in the kitchen, bottle cap in to the trash, the magazine on the island; i drop these little bread crumbs until I walk down the hallway and make it to my room to conceal my smoking materials like they're are the equivalent to a crack pipe. Then back down the hallway, through the kitchen, picking up my magazine and beer like I'm finding my way back to grandma's house, before settling down in front of the computer to write this little paragraph.
This is my life.
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