
It’s what one might call a dramatic irony, the maple blushing red next to the gate of the Grove Street Cemetery—leaves readying
Keep ReadingIt’s what one might call a dramatic irony, the maple blushing red next to the gate of the Grove Street Cemetery—leaves readying
Keep ReadingNote: All names have been changed. Evan is always in the bathroom. It’s where we met, and then introduced ourselves again the next day when we realized we had forgotten each other’s names. When I get in the shower, he’s
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