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![]() October 2025 . . . . The Problem with Sardines
There are two scenes, side by side in my head, like a forced choice preference test. In the scene on the left, a doorway opens into a kitchen; the counter and sink on the left and the refrigerator flush against the right corner forming the small L-shaped room barely large enough for four paces. Dimly lit with a yellow lightbulb that flickered every time someones stride accidentally turned too much into a stomp, the vinyl floor sticks to your feet and raises slightly with each of your four steps like lifting your thighs from a leather car seat in the summer. |
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