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Fiction #309
(published December 21, 2006)
Wading
by Gwendolyn Joyce Mintz
Last night I found I don't need you that much. I'd been drinking and I finally felt good without you.

Morning came and you found me outside your house, wading in vomit and wine.

You told me I couldn't stay.

I wasn't hurting anyone.

I was just sitting on the curb, thinking.

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