I am five days away from my big grad-school audition. I've had little to no social life for the past two months. Everyone in the Hobbit Hole has heard my practicing over and over again. Dylan does his impersonation of an eye-roll when I start unpacking my cello and he hops to the top of the closet to nap on my clothes. I'm sadly boring and mightily relieved I'm on the home stretch. None of this explains why I'm drinking a shit-beer though. Mysteries.
An Erinku:
pillow
de-fluffed
slipping
out of case
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