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No one told me. Eating cake seems incredible right now. Sometimes you have to face your fears. But I don't, I don't want to. I’m stretching to go back to the computer. I'm just like, get it away from me—I don’t get this whole “work” thing. Do you feel better about the breakup? Yeah, I mean, rupture is labor. I bet on another apology. Probably a stupid letter on lined paper. By the way, you did the cooking for the dinner party? It was pretty good. I liked it. No, it tasted really good! I loved it. Rice, salmon, veggies—I love just simple. I love the simple simple. I mean that in a nice way! The devil’s in the details. No, don’t text him back, send an email if you have to—that’d be hilarious. Though my sixth grade boyfriend broke up with me over Google Chat and that was not funny at all. Wait not to cut you off but I was just thinking about high school. If we had been on TikTok we could've been influencers, or child brides. Obviously I’m joking. Remember the tongue trick in choir? Mouth watermelon and no one can tell. We should use that more. Speaking of fruit, the banana stand guy never DMed me back, he’s in the graveyard. No, he’s not actually dead, only rotting with the rest of the ghosts in my phone. I imagine them in the crevices of the battery, chasing after ping pong balls and blasting sad Drake songs. Let me tell you about this beautiful, bearded man I found on my feed. He was like, I'd love to buy you a piña colada. We can walk a dog. Could it get any better? So then he had the audacity to ask for my Snapchat—why do grown ups still have that? I found his Instagram and he’s a ski instructor in California, not even the warm part. It would never work—I don’t know how to ski! Plus I’m no longer picking up tourists. I’m mature now, rocking out with my frontal lobe. So good night. Have a good night. No, not goodnight to you, it's an expression. Come over if you want, I promise I’ll be a delight, only rude in the way seagulls behave at the beach. You can relax a little, stick your toes out, but bring snacks? Okay, right sorry so my advice—well what do I know? Keep the door locked. I like a deadbolt. I’m being dramatic? I don’t think you understand what being haunted is like. When I was alone that week I wanted to kill the fly, but after the cat escaped, the fly was all I had left.