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and go home before anyone can suggest happy hour.
I Let My Sister and Her Kids Move Into My House – Three Months Later, My Neighbor Knocked on My Door and Said, ‘You Need to Check Your Basement. Now’
I just don’t trust the part of myself that starts to need them.
Most days, my evenings look identical. Tea. A blanket. A stack of essays. A chapter of whatever book I’m pretending is “for pleasure” but is really just my way of staying tucked away.
