Shoes and Tires: On Breaking Up.

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“I just think of stupid things lately,” he’d said to me. “Like, where am I going to do my laundry, or what happens when your tires get low– you’re always driving with your tires low and it’s dangerous!  And your shoes.  You leave them everywhere.  You’re going to trip on them all the time because no one else will be there to pick them up.”

“I will pick up my own shoes, now.” I said.

“But what about that look you give,” he said, “It’s not mine, anymore, and I don’t know where it’s going next.”

“I will pick up my own shoes, now.” I said.

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