
Twenty-four
30 SEP 2023 Little Red House Under the Stairs Sitting in front of an electric Underwood. A 565. It isn’t fancy. Or particularly pretty. Functional. Business. Drab in its presentation. But, I can make it work. Some stickers. A stencil here or there. Perhaps some paint. Or, maybe just let the kids free to have at it, with markers and paint pens. Because why not? Colour never hurts. Neither does another typewriter. How many? Who fucking knows…too many to count. And, that’s okay. As long as hers are hers and mine are mine. Because we haven’t yet crossed that relationship threshold. The one where collections are truly combined. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe next year. Or maybe never. And, that’s okay. I don’t want her ever getting lost. …
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